Fidelius Week
by Weaver
Summary: Fidelius? Faithfulness? In that heart-wrenching week before Halloween, Sirius faces betrayal, love, death and midnight splinching... and all his efforts, in the end, are nothing.
1. Wednesday: The Last Supper

**_Fidelius Week_**

**_by Weaver_**   
  


**_Part One of Seven_**

**_Starring Pensive!James, StillGood!Peter, Serious!Sirius and Sticky!Harry._**

**_In which several important decisions are made, and we discover a little of what makes Peter into Wormtail. Angst and poignant moments abound, along with choc chip cookies._**   


**_*_**

_"The Fidelius Charm is an immensely complex spell involving the magical concealment of a secret inside a single, living soul. The information is hidden inside the chosen person, or Secret-Keeper, and is henceforth impossible to find unless the Secret-Keeper chooses to divulge it. There are many uses for the Fidelius Charm and its variants; the most common of these in our times is that of sending a person or people into hiding._

_"Should the Fidelius Charm be used to conceal the whereabouts of a person, none but the Secret-Keeper will be able to see, touch, hear or otherwise sense the presence of that person. In effect, those under the Charm will vanish from the face of the earth. While it is arguably the most secure hiding charm for people, there are inherent dangers involved. The Charm itself is complex and dangerous, and several deaths have resulted from attempts to perform it. The ingredients needed are deadly, rare and difficult to obtain, particularly the demiguise hair that forms a vital part of the spell construction. The isolation that the Charm forces upon those who use it to hide is a deterrent, as very few witches or wizards are able to be happy while completely sequestered from everyone save their Secret-Keeper._

_"The Fidelius Charm should never be attempted by any but fully qualified wizards with experience and expertise in both Charms and Potions."_

_--Magnus Ethelred_

Defensive Enchantments and Conjurations

_Obscurus Books_

_London 1983_

  
  


**Wednesday: The Last Supper**  
  
  


_There are only six of us left,_ thought James, watching the animated gathering in his dining room. _Only six of us have survived this long, and none of us unharmed. And one of us is a traitor._

It was the twenty-fifth of October, Lily's twenty-first birthday, and they had managed to put aside the losing war they were fighting and spend the evening talking over old times, in between insulting each other in the way characteristic of their long friendship. Remus was there, leaning back in his chair, looking happy and alert – of course, it was a week and a bit till the next full moon, so why wouldn't he be? Sirius was staging a mock fistfight with Peter, the two of them darting about the room and posing ridiculously. Lily and her long-time friend Angel were leaning against each other on the couch, laughing at the antics of the others. 

James leaned back further in the fluffy armchair, one lanky arm wrapped around the testy one-year-old who was doing his best to escape from his father's lap. "Paff," Harry said emphatically. "Paffoo!" 

"Paffoo's busy," James told him. He flipped the squirming baby over onto his back, and Harry stared stubbornly up at him with those ridiculously green eyes. _Lily's eyes. I hope he doesn't need glasses later, it would be such a shame to hide those eyes behind lenses._

"Paffoo!" Harry demanded, more urgently. 

"Dumbledore's going to be here soon," Lily called. "Shouldn't you take a few wards down?" 

"Oh, he'll manage," James said lazily. "He helped put half of them up, remember?" 

A loud bang from outside punctuated his words, and instantly everyone in the room was alert and silent. Despite their cheerful words, the ever-present danger of the war lay heavy on their hearts: an unexpected noise in the yard was more than cause for wariness. 

Sirius glanced meaningfully at James: _Stay put,_ and then he and Remus, with perfect coordination, glided carefully towards the front room. Peter slipped noiselessly to the windows and Angel and Lily darted for their wands, ready to activate the defensive charms at a signal. James scooped Harry up and hurried to Lily's side, wand out and ready. _Once we wouldn't have known what to do,_ he mused. _Once we wouldn't have needed to be scared of the things that go bump in the night,_ and he felt a faint fleeting sadness that their innocence had been left so far behind. 

Sirius's bright, flashing laughter and a murmur of voices from the hall suddenly dispelled the tense atmosphere in the house. Remus called back "It's OK, Prongs, it is Dumbledore –" 

The old wizard stepped into the dining room, rubbing an arm. "I'm afraid I've set off one of your wards by accident, James," he said wryly. "I believe it was this –" he held up a brown paper package that appeared to be glowing slightly. "The ward was set against Invisibility cloaks, and of course when I tried to bring demiguise hair through it… But it's here now, and you can perform the Charm tomorrow." 

_Tomorrow…_ the word echoed through James's mind, reminding him of just how much they were risking, as everyone resumed their seats. 

"Cheer up, Prongs," Sirius said jovially. "You poor _deer_." 

Peter snorted. "That was a _stag_-geringly bad joke, Sirius, you should be _pun_-ished." 

"Yes, he's not much good at _pun_-gent satire, is he?" Remus put in, hiding a smile. "We should _pun_-ch some sense into him." 

Dumbledore was smiling slightly, enjoying the general laughter, although apparently slightly confused about the origin of the jokes. "Well, I must go – I came only to deliver the demiguise hair. I have another appointment later tonight." 

"Yeah, you've got to be _pun_-ctual," Sirius added. "But first you should have some of Lily's vodka. It's excellent." 

"Please," Lily added. "Have a choc chip chookie, too. Sirius, please, be serious – you spend too much time having _pun_." 

"They're good biscuits, even if she does insist on calling them chookies," James said, choosing to refrain from wordplay. The quick glance Remus shot him was vaguely disappointed, and vaguely something else as well – concerned, maybe? 

"I helped make them," Sirius announced proudly. "And _then_ I cleaned up the mess I made when I helped make them." 

"It's almost an obligation for Sirius, isn't it – he sees a bag of flour, he tips it on me," Angel said, with a grin. 

"But I cleaned up! Doesn't that give me brownie points?" Sirius put on the 'appealing-puppy-dog-eyes' look he did so well. 

_We've been together so long,_ James thought, _we know each other so well, and one of us is using that knowledge to have us killed – someone here would be happy to see Harry and Lily dead, and me too. One of us is a traitor. _He couldn't seem to get rid of that thought, couldn't seem to fit in to the friendly, easy mood of the close-knit little group. Lily was eyeing him, looking concerned; he gave her a grin, and ruffled Harry's hair. _Is it just coincidence that Remus looks so nervous? He's a werewolf... ultimately, a creature of the Dark. But, but, but he's Moony – he wouldn't … _He let his thought fly off, trying to concentrate on being happy, being alive, this last night before they had to vanish indefinitely. 

Dumbledore left the package on the coffee table. "Take care, James, Lily," he said solemnly, a most serious expression on his sober face. "And especially take care of little Harry. He has a big life to live, this one, and I think he may prove more important than we think." 

"Oh, we'll look after him, don't you worry," Sirius said gleefully. "I plan to teach him how to rearrange the Hogwarts plumbing system, and Moony's going to show him how to set off Filibuster Fireworks at inopportune moments. And that's just this week's lessons!" 

Dumbledore switched his gaze to Sirius. "Sirius – my offer still stands. I urge you to consider it most carefully. You will be the first person they come after, if they know that you're the Secret-Keeper. I would be more than happy to take on the responsibility myself, if you'd let me…?" 

Sirius, all levity gone from his face, shook his head firmly. "You wanted me to do it, right Prongs? I – I want to feel like I'm doing something, like I'm helping. I feel pretty stupid about just standing around while my best friends and their son - my _godson_ - are in danger." 

Dumbledore nodded, accepting the argument, but he didn't look convinced. "We could use you on the front lines, though, and you know that when word gets out about the Fidelius Charm you'll need to go into hiding. If you're found, you'll be tortured – horribly. I'd like to spare you that." 

"I know. But I still want to do it." 

"Padfoot – you know you don't _have _to," James said suddenly. "If you –" 

Sirius cut him off mid-sentence by the simple expedient of clapping a hand over his mouth. "_I want to do it_. I'm serious, Prongs, it's the only way I can be sure that you're safe." 

"Mmphle murgle splmph," said James. "Mmph." 

"What was that? I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch what you said…" 

James reached up and forcibly removed Sirius's hand from his face. "I _said_, I wanted you to do it too. Git. I just didn't want you to feel like you _had_ to." 

"If you're sure then, Sirius?" Dumbledore looked resigned, but he was smiling. "Let me know if you change your mind. The ritual is set for tomorrow?" 

Lily nodded. James nodded. Harry, on his lap, reached up and put his chocolate-sticky hands on his father's face, announcing "Paffoo good!" 

"He's got more brains than his father," Sirius said, and paused. "Then again, that wouldn't be hard."   
  


*   
  


Their happy evening drew to a close, as evenings tend to do. Angel, slightly tipsy from the amount of vodka she'd consumed, hugged James and Lily a little more vigorously than she had perhaps intended to. James, trying to detach her, shook his head sadly. "And she used to be such a sweet, shy little thing… Remus, can you get her home OK?" 

"I can get home jutht _fine_," Angel said, and began weaving her way unsteadily towards the broomshed – the Potters had been disconnected from the Floo Network ever since they'd been told they were on Voldemort's hit list. Remus shrugged and hurried after her, but James caught his arm and pulled him into a hard and sudden hug. 

"You take care, d'you hear me Moony? Watch yourself. Don't get into any sticky situations. Are you sure you can manage?" 

Remus pounded him fiercely on the back, almost breaking James's ribs. "I'll be alright, Prongs, I always am. I'll write, too, I promise – and I'll come and visit, and spend half an hour talking to thin air – and it'll all be OK in the end, right?" 

James bowed his head and then flung it back, staring up at the sky while tears threatened to burn the back of his eyes. _Will it all be OK? Just take care, Moony, even if you are betraying us I want you to be safe…_

Remus slipped away into the dark after Angel, who was attempting to fly away on the fence. It looked painful. James smothered a laugh as Remus gently guided her in the right direction. 

"You know, we've been saying since school that those two belong together. Do you think it'll ever happen?" He hadn't heard Lily come up behind him, but there she was, cradling a sleeping Harry and looking less than wide-awake herself.

"No... probably not. Not if she's waiting for Moony to initiate anything, anyway," James replied, sadness weighing on him as he watched the two soar into the star-sprinkled night. "I think he's afraid of himself." He turned back to the lighted inside, where Peter was pulling his coat on and Sirius lay sprawled comfortably on the couch, his unreadable black eyes directed out the door at the vanishing figures of Remus and Angel. 

"You're off too, Pete?" Lily was watching him check his pockets for his wand – nobody went out at night unarmed any more, and wands were always ready to hand. Peter didn't look much bothered. He never had, lately. He just didn't seem to care any more. 

It had been just over a year ago that Peter had married Anne Prewett in a gorgeous beachside ceremony, the two of them laughing and loving life, a bright spot in the darkness that had fallen everywhere else. Just a week later, during their honeymoon in northern Australia, Anne had vanished. Peter had woken up to bloodstained sheets and a green, glowing skull hovering menacingly over their holiday bungalow. 

_He blames himself,_ James thought, glancing at Peter's shadowed eyes and the rapidly-multiplying grey strands in his sandy hair. _Nobody knows why Anne was killed and he was left alive, and he thinks it's his fault, he thinks he should have protected her. _He took the sleeping Harry from Lily's arms, and she surrendered the baby with a sigh of relief. He did get heavy, sometimes. 

"Yeah, I should get home –" 

"Wait!" Sirius snapped his lanky body upright, a gleam in his eyes. "Wait. I have an idea." 

"You have an idea," Peter repeated. "Beginner's luck." 

Sirius punched him. "No, seriously, I've been thinking." 

"First time for everything -" Peter ducked. "-you left yourself wide open for that, Padfoot!" 

"I've been _thinking_," Sirius repeated severely, "about what Dumbledore said. Prongs, c'mere for a minute. Mouse – just stay there and talk to Lily." He pulled James over to the wall. "He said I might be tortured. What if that happens – what if I am tortured, and I give up the secret?" His voice was low and urgent. 

"You won't," James said, firmly. _Why is he worried now, all of a sudden? What has he got in mind?_

"I might. You know how powerful Voldemort is now, you know how close we are to losing or you wouldn't be going into hiding… and if they do get me, then what? I've never been tortured, Prongs, I've never found out if I can stand it… I might crack really easily, and you'd be up the proverbial creek." Sirius looked absolutely determined, his expressive face set hard as granite.   
"Padfoot –" 

"_Listen_ to me, Prongs, don't interrupt!" Sirius slammed a fist against the wall, making James jump. 

"Don't wake Harry," Lily called, from where she and Peter were sitting on the other side of the room. 

"You won't give us up," James repeated, not really sure what Sirius was trying to get at but doing his best to reassure him anyway. 

Sirius turned away, and suddenly the granite shattered and immeasurable pain was carved into his profiled face. "I won't… but … I think Remus would." The last four words were so quiet James could barely hear them. Sirius leaned both forearms against the wall, resting his head on the paneling between his elbows. "I think it's Remus," he said again, almost inaudibly. 

Denials came instantly to James, denials and fury and the idea of shaking Sirius with all his strength until he talked sense, but he restrained himself. _He wouldn't say that unless he had a reason._ Anger flushed through him, even when he tried to rationalise. _It's almost what I was thinking before. It's just that hearing it aloud makes me feel it's real. He wouldn't say it unless he had a reason. He wouldn't._

The silence stretched. Sirius didn't move, didn't look around, just stood there silently. Finally, James decided he could control his voice. "W—why do you say that?" 

"He can't help what he is," Sirius said, his voice muffled by speaking into the wall. "He can't help it. Don't you remember what Danielle did? She was a good witch, she was our friend, but she – they're both –Werewolves are Dark creatures. It isn't his fault." 

James bit his lip and didn't say anything. The quiet murmur of Lily and Peter's conversation buzzed in his ears. Harry yawned, showing off his scattering of tiny pearl-like teeth, and snuggled deeper into his father's arms. 

"I went to see him last full moon," Sirius said, unexpectedly breaking the silence. "I went to the hut he's been using and he wasn't there. He hadn't been there. I couldn't find out where he was. I used a Locus charm – nothing." He was quiet for a while. "Voldemort's been calling Dark creatures to him. And Moony's been quiet, he's been subdued, he doesn't talk much any more. I hate to think it, I know you hate to hear it –" 

"I do," James said, very quietly. "But that doesn't make it any less true." 

"And he – nothing terrible has happened to him," Sirius went on, not acknowledging James or indeed anything else in the room. "Fin – Fin's dead." His voice was slightly unsteady – just slightly, but his shoulders were tensed and his hands resting on the wall were clenched into tight fists. "And Peter's lost Anne. My parents – your family – Lily's family – Peter's aunt – but nobody Remus cares for, _nobody_." At last Sirius looked up, pushing himself off the wall. "It's not his fault. I can't accept that he'd do it consciously. But –" He didn't need to say any more. 

Gently, James pushed a tuft of jet-black hair out of the way of his sleeping son's eyes. Harry was warm and sweet and smelled of talcum powder and chocolate, and it was much easier to think about him than to think about what Sirius had said. Finally, he made himself look up. Sirius was watching Harry with the same devoted adoration. "He's like a light," he said softly, "and everyone knows. Do you see how people's faces light up when you bring him around? He's the darling of the whole wizarding world. Everybody who's ever seen him loves him. James –" Sirius took a deep breath, "—you _have_ to keep him safe. If anyone hurts him and I could have prevented it – if anyone hurts _you_, or Lily, and I could have prevented it …" 

James nodded. "What do you have planned?" 

"Peter. Peter becomes Secret-Keeper tomorrow, but you tell everyone that it was me. No – don't interrupt. That way, they'll come chasing me, and Peter can hide somewhere and you'll be safe even if they break me." 

"I – I don't – you'd do that?" 

"I think it's the best idea." Sirius looked tired, but he managed his trademark lopsided grin. "Even if your feeble mind can't see it."   
"You'll still be in danger, though – and if they torture you, if they use Veritaserum or whatever, they'd find out about Peter, wouldn't they?"   
"Yes, but you'd have a bit of warning at least, you'd have a chance to get away. It's the perfect bluff, Prongs – they'll never suspect Peter, not the way he's been since – since last year. Voldemort will be sure to come after me, he'll never dream you'd ask Peter…" Sirius was enthusiastic now, sketching gestures in the air to illustrate his words. 

"That's _if_ Peter will do it," James said. 

Peter was yawning ostentatiously and looking at his watch. "Do you two plan to let me leave any time today?" he asked innocently, seeing them watching him. 

"He will," Sirius told James confidently. Without further ado, he hurried over to Lily and Peter, sat down in front of them and began explaining the situation. James watched, cradling Harry and wishing he could be as cheerful as Sirius moments after logically reasoning out why their oldest friend was betraying them, before he noticed the tight set of Sirius' jaw and the tenseness of his back. 

"You know what, Harry?" he asked the sleeping child softly. "Your godfather is an amazing man, but he's not so easygoing as he pretends to be." Harry gurgled in his sleep. James took him over to join the others. 

Lily was very pale, her lips set tightly together. "…Remus…?" she was saying, looking horrified and miserable. Peter had his eyes shut and his arms wrapped around himself, as if he was trying to keep the cold out. Sirius was looking miserable again; he'd never been any good at hiding his emotions for long. 

"I don't think I should do it," Peter said, glancing at James as if for support. "I'm no good at keeping secrets…" 

"That doesn't come into it, not really… it's more like guarding something physical than just keeping something quiet. You could say to anyone 'The Potters are just there' and that wouldn't break the Charm. You have to willingly say the incantation to break it." James shrugged. "It shouldn't be a problem." 

"No. Why doesn't Sirius do it? Wasn't that the plan?" 

"We changed," Sirius said blithely. "They'll come after _me_ while you're in hiding somewhere safe. I could come and check on you every week or so, 'cause I'll be hiding too – I'm the one they'll chase. Come on, Mouse, it's perfect!" Peter had been 'Mouse' since he began primary school; he was always one of the shortest, and nothing had changed. 'Wormtail' had been added on in their fifth year, after he discovered his Animagus form, and although he hated it the name had stuck. Sirius, James realised, was doing his persuading act again, bringing up memories of their earliest years at Hogwarts. _He always could talk us into anything._

"I don't like it, Sirius," Peter was saying warningly. His face was blank and unreadable. "Are you sure you want me to do this?" 

"Yes! Would I suggest it if I wasn't?" 

"James?" Peter asked. "Is this what you want me to do?" 

"I think… I think it's the best plan, Pete," James said, trying to reassure Peter. 

"Is there any way you'll let me _not_ do it?" Peter asked, sounding resigned. There was something odd in his eyes, something James couldn't quite read. 

"No," Lily said quickly. "No, Pete, I think it's our best chance. Please?" 

Peter closed his eyes briefly. "I'll do it."   
  
  


*  
  
  


_I'll do it, but on your own heads be the consequences! I tried… I tried, really I did. They made me do it… it will be their own fault. Their fault, _your_ fault James and Lily! I don't want to do it!_

Peter rolled over and sat up, legs dangling off the edge of his bed, staring out at the starlight. _But… if I do, if I give Him their Secret, He'll give me my Anne back. I'd do anything for that – anything._

Another voice spoke up in his head: _--would you exchange your best friends' lives? would you see little Harry die just for you and her?—_

Grimacing, he turned away from the open window, towards the dark shadows of the corner of his room. _It's not my fault, they made me. I can't help it. I don't want to make this choice! Lily, James, Harry… and then Anne. But He'll torture her if I keep anything from Him, He'll hurt her, and I can't stand it when He does that… Oh, Anne, why didn't they take me too? I do everything He says, and I hate myself for it, but if I don't do it He curses you and pokes at you and makes you scream… Anything I could do to ease that pain, anything I can do I will, and He knows it._

_If I had the guts to kill myself now He'd lose his most valuable source of information. But if I kill myself, He'll hurt Anne even more, and I won't put her through that, not for **anything**, not even for the sake of Light Magic's triumph. I will not do it._

_---but James and Lily, Peter. would you see them die without a thought? what will you do Peter?---_

_Shut up! Leave me alone!_

Peter folded himself down into rat-shape to escape the relentless beating of the thoughts against his skull. With the simplicity of the rat came new clarity of thought:_ It comes down to this, then. In your hands, you hold the lives of Lily, James and Harry. If you give them up He **may** give you Anne back, and then you can be happy. If you hide them from Him, He will hurt Anne more, but they would be safe._

_Then there is a third choice. You can do nothing. You can hope He does not summon you until they have had time to get safely away, and then when He makes you tell, they will be gone and safe._

The rat squirmed around, making a nest for itself in the wide bed. _Please let Him not summon me… please let me not have to make this choice!_

_Oh, Anne…_   
  
  


*  
  
  


**Revised 11th January 2003**


	2. Thursday: Fidelius Celum Ego, Secefer

**_Fidelius Week_**

**_by Weaver_**

**_Part Two of Seven_**

**_Starring Hiding!Sirius, Jumpy!James and Pathetic!Peter_**

_**In which the Fidelius Charm is performed, Padfoot's fur stands on end, Peter **__**i**__**s**____**e**__**v**__**e**__**r**____**s**__**o**____**a**__**n**__**g**__**s**__**t**__**y******__,____**and Sirius hides out at a place we all know and love. Danger grows stronger; shadows hover closer.**_

**_*_**

_"The Fidelius Charm is the most effective and secure method of hiding a person or people. However, it does have a weakness, namely the fact that those using the Charm rely utterly on one person's faithfulness (hence the name Fidelius). If the Secret-Keeper (the man or woman to whom the Secret is entrusted) chooses or is forced to betray the Secret, the person or people hiding under the Charm are then helpless, the nature of the Fidelius being such that powerful spells cannot be performed by them without negating the effects of the Charm."_

_--Quentin Trimble_

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection

_Dragon Night International Publishing_

_London 1979_

**Thursday: Keep My Secret Safe**

A tentative knock on the door announced the arrival of Peter, looking as though he hadn't slept all night. Harry staggered a few steps towards him before falling and crawling the rest of the way. "Mow. Mows!" 

Peter bent down to scoop up the toddler, wishing he were anywhere else. "Mouse has work to do today, little one. You're going to disappear."  
Harry wriggled around in his arms and gave him a very sweet smile.

"You ready, Pete?" James came hurrying out of the kitchen, drawn and anxious, wand in hand. "Are you sure you'll be OK with this? You look … tired."

_No! No, I'm not going to be OK! Get someone else to Keep the damn Secret, someone who won't sell you out as soon as possible. "Yeah, I'll be fine. You don't look so good yourself… but then, that's nothing new."_

James laughed, a smile fleeting across his anxious face like a sunbeam fighting through stormclouds. "Same old Mouse. I don't know why I even let you in this house. Come help sort this out – Lily's having issues with the precise arrangement of the mountain roots."

"…mountain roots?" Peter echoed, trying to stop Harry from bomb-diving out of his arms. "Where on Earth do you find mountain roots?"

"You should hear the other stuff we've got to get. The _easiest thing to organise was the demiguise hair… where did I put my wand?"_

"You're holding it."

James looked sheepish. "Oh. Sorry. What was I saying?"

"You were saying something to distract yourself from worrying about this Charm we have to perform in five minutes," Peter said smoothly, grinning when James stopped to stare at him. "See, I know you too well. So what _are these ingredients you need that are so hard to come by?"_

"Not really ingredients," Lily said, as they entered the kitchen where a collection of very odd-looking objects were arranged in apparently meaningless positions. "More aids to help the Charm along. It's all about hiding, right, so we have things that are almost impossible to find."

"The noise of a cat walking," James said. "And the breath of a fish…"

"…the beard of a maiden, the saliva of a bird, the roots of a mountain…" Lily added, pointing out things that made Peter's eyes hurt to try to focus on.

"…and the sinews of a bear. I don't know where that last bit comes in," James said, grinning, "but it's supposed to be a part all the same."

"You sure the Charm doesn't call for James Potter's elegance when dancing? 'Cause there've been a few occasions when you displayed your spectacular lack of same…" Peter ducked the wand James tossed at his head. Harry chuckled, gazing up at Peter with those impossibly green eyes, and Peter felt a painful throb of guilt. _He's so young. Please, if anything out there cares, let them get away safely when I betray them. _

"Is something wrong, Mouse?" Lily was watching him intently, the troublesome mountain roots forgotten. "You look odd."

"No, no, I'll be fine. You guys should be worrying. You're the ones who'll be vanishing from the face of the earth in, oh, approximately two minutes."

Lily gulped, and James lost his smile. "Let's get this over, then," he said, scooping Harry up and wrapping an arm around Lily's waist. "You know what to do?"

_They make the perfect family picture – James tall and handsome, Lily pretty and motherly, Harry the most adorable baby anyone knows. I wish I didn't have to destroy all that. Please, let them get away! "Yeah, all ready." He stepped into the arrangement of the eye-damaging magic objects and took a deep breath. "Let's go."_

*

Outside, by the white picket fence, a large black dog sat quietly. At the first flash of blue-white light, all the hairs along his back rose; the corresponding surge of power emanating from the house made him yelp. Sparks danced along his shaggy coat. 

The lightning flashed eight times more, each time increasing the levels of magic in the air surrounding the house to the point where it was almost unbearable for the silent watcher. By the time the power had surged wildly eight times, he resembled a giant black pompom more than anything else with the amount of magic static in his coat.

The final surge built the magical pressure to almost exploding point – and then abruptly collapsed in on itself. The dog, his coat back to normal, felt the power turning itself around and somehow inverting completely, so that he could no longer sense anything. 

Softly, a breeze stirred his coat, and fallen leaves stirred in the grass by his feet. The house behind him flickered once, twice, and then it was as it had always been. A short, cloaked man let himself out, shutting the door behind him; the house seemed empty.

At the gate the man paused, seeing the dog, and laughed shortly. "Aren't you supposed to be hiding?"

The dog barked. If he could have spoken, he would have told the man that he _was hiding, hadn't he ever heard of hiding in plain sight, nobody knew what he was and why didn't the man just go home and relax?_

"It all went off without a hitch," the man told him. "I don't know why Lily was worried. And they want you to write to them, but don't get offended when they don't write back, 'cause they can't. And I'm absolutely wrecked, I'm going home to sleep." There was a soft _pop of air filling the vacuum where the man had been until then. _

Supremely unconcerned, the dog padded off down the road, leaving the silent house behind.

*

_It's done now. All I can do is wait. If He summons me, then I'll tell Him – I don't have the strength to resist Him. I hope only He'll leave it for a week or so, because I'm sure James and Lily said something about leaving in a few days just to keep safe. Just think, I'm the only one in the whole wide world who can even see them now. They've put absolutely all their trust in me._

_And I'm about to betray it all. _

_But it's not my fault! If He hadn't taken Anne, so many yesterdays ago, then I wouldn't be His unwilling spy, I'd be able to be happy like I always was before. Weakness, that's what they taught us in Slytherin. See your opponent's weakness and take advantage. And my weakness is my beloved wife Anne Prewett, and they know it - He knows it._

The rat scurried around and around the empty room. If it was a man it would have been pacing; but if Peter had stayed a man he wouldn't be able to think so clearly. Humans had such messy emotions, always getting in the way. He could keep most of that out when he was the rat.

_I could even live like this permanently, I think. It's so much simpler than human life. But I'd never do that, because I'd be no use to Anne if I lived like a rat. And I just want her to be safe… I just want her not to hurt any more. And if I give Him the Potters, He could even be so glad He'll let her free… I know how much he wants James and Harry. And if they've gone by the time He summons me, well, what then? I'll still hopefully have pleased Him, and Anne will be safe, and James and Harry and Lily will be safe too. _

_It's a dangerous game I'm playing, but it's the only way…_

*

The Light side had many safe-houses for wizards in hiding – far too many, and almost all of them were full to overcrowding. Sirius found himself taking refuge that night with a large redheaded family in a ramshackle building that reminded him sharply of his own childhood. No names were exchanged, naturally, but the housewife– who was pregnant with her seventh child – welcomed him with a warm smile and a home-cooked feast, and her husband, when he discovered Sirius had no definite plans, spent several hours discussing the best way to ensure he stayed safe. Sirius felt terribly guilty about accepting their hospitality like that, when he was a complete stranger and had to remain that way.

"When we win this war, I'll come back and thank you," he told the housewife, later that night. "If I could, I'd tell you why I'm running and when I'll be able to come back, but Dumbledore reckons the less anyone knows the safer I'll be."

"We know the routine, dear," the woman told him, smiling. "Almost every week there's another fugitive through here. We won't ask questions."

"Do you know the Potters?" Sirius asked. He didn't know why he was talking so much; the words just spilled out of him. _Maybe it's the war. You can't trust anyone any more, and I miss talking to people. "They're the nicest couple you'd ever dream of meeting – they have a son just this one's age." He tousled the youngest boy's fiery red hair affectionately. "They're the kind of people I wanted to be. Still do."_

"No, I don't think we've met them," she said thoughtfully. "I've heard the name, of course – I believe they're quite active in the resistance?"

"Absolutely. We'd all be dead a few times over if not for James… 'course, they're in hiding now, so that's over. Vol—" Sirius caught himself in time, noting the fright on the woman's face, "—I mean, You-Know-Who is concentrating everything he's got on killing them. That's kind of why I'm here."

"Don't say any more!" she said, frowning suddenly. "You shouldn't have even said that much. I don't want to be able to link you with anyone, do you hear me? You could be putting them in more danger."

"Sorry," Sirius said, somewhat abashed. "I'm just – it's good to talk to people again."

"You should sleep, you look done in. In the basement – I'll get Art—my husband to show you – we've set up a room. I'd have you upstairs, it's so much more comfortable, but of course you don't want to be around if we're attacked in the night."

"Thank you." He refrained from saying any more, afraid he'd let something slip. 

_I'm not good at stealth! I've never needed to hide anything before, not really, except for Moon—except for Lupin's secret. Maybe I shouldn't have hidden that…_

Sternly, he pulled his thought away from the pain that lay in that direction. _I still have James and Peter, and Lily and Angel, and I would die before I let harm come to them. It's not as if there's anyone else any more. _

*

Inside the silent, almost-empty house in Godric's Hollow, Harry was shrieking with laughter as James tossed him up into the air, and Lily was shaking her head and sighing noisily. It would have been a perfect family picture… if they'd been visible to anyone but each other. 

As it was, the slight, shadowed figure hovering outside the windows couldn't see a thing. 

*

**Revised 11th January 2003**

**Note: The items used in the Charm are from Norse mythology; Odin used them to create the rope that binds the Fenrir Wolf. **


	3. Friday: Shadows of the Past

**Fidelius Week **

**_by Weaver_**

****

**_Part Three of Seven_**

****

**_Starring Sexy!Sirius, Repentant!Peter, and one HavingSecondThoughts!DeathEater..._**

**_In which a woman pries rather more than is good for her, Lord Voldemort learns of the Potter's plans, and Sirius learns that sometimes dreams turn into nightmare_****_s_********_i_****_n_********_t_****_h_****_e_********_l_****_i_****_g_****_h_****_t_********_o_****_f_********_d_****_a___****y****_. _**

FRIDAY: SHADOWS OF THE PAST

In the way of dreams, it seemed perfectly natural to Sirius that he should wake to the warmth of Fin's body tangled with his own. She lay curved into him, her legs resting across his own and her head pillowed on his arm. Her dark hair felt as silky as ever against his skin. 

He moved, and she opened her eyes. They seemed even more deeply green than he remembered, the faint depression in the middle of the faceted gemlike orbs more pronounced -- but no more human than they'd ever been. It was part of why he loved her, that exotic alien beauty, although he'd loved her even before he knew what she looked like.

"Fin," he whispered. "You came back."

"Oh, Sirius, I never left you." Her musical voice seemed to echo perfection. He was here, and she was with him, and this was how the world should always be. 

"You died," he said, but the anguish those words carried was dulled and far away from the dream, and he couldn't shake the feeling of rightness that suffused him. "I - I missed you." His voice cracked, recalling the pain-filled years, but when she smiled everything was well again.

"Oh, you silly," she murmured. "Did you think a little thing like that could keep me from you?"

There didn't seem to be anything Sirius needed to say to that, so he said nothing, just pulled her closer and held her. She seemed thinner than he remembered, more fragile.

"I love you, Star," she whispered gently. "I'll always love you, no matter what happens."

Sirius took her triangular face in his large, coarse hands, wondering at the fineness of her skin and the delicacy of those elfin features. "Nothing's going to happen. Except maybe, this dream will end." A sharp pang cut through him. "I don't want it to end."

"All good things come to an end, Star." There was a quiet serenity in her features. "But maybe this doesn't have to." She sat up, her silky nightgown settling around her tiny figure. "I'm going to visit you today, Sirius. I need to talk to you. It's important. Don't be surprised when you see me."

Sirius reached up and cupped her face in his hands. "Fin, if I see you today, it will be the answer to my prayers." 

She smiled, and reached a fine-boned hand out to touch the faint scar on his cheek. "Dreams _can come true, Star. I will not fail you." As her fingers brushed the line of his scar, she faded from his sight, and a dazzling beam of sunlight blinded him..._

"Wake up!" This voice was rough with anxiety, lacking the musicality of Fin's sweet tones. Sirius blinked away the haze -- the morning sunlight was shining full on his face, and the red-headed owner of the safe-house was bending over him. "You have to get moving!" 

Banishing the embers of the dream, Sirius went from sleepy to full alert in a second. It was a skill he wished he hadn't had to learn. 

"What's wrong?" He'd slept in his clothes, since he knew he'd be moving on in a hurry; he bent now to pull his long boots on. "What's happened?"

"We had a security breach - just about ten minutes ago - nothing _seems_ to have happened yet, but you should be moving before anything does," the man said. He produced a large package from which the smell of mushrooms was rising. "My wife packed this for you to take, since you can't wait to eat here." 

Sirius pulled his belt on, holstered his wand, and hastily concealed several knives in various places about his body. Taking the package with a grateful "Thanks!" he snatched his travelling cloak from the floor. "I'm Flooing?" 

"They can trace Apparition too easily," the man said. "In the kitchen - the fire's going. Go to a Floo-Port before your next destination, so they can't hear where you're going -- got that?"

"Kitchen, Floo-Port, right. Thanks so much --" Sirius began hurriedly, but the man shoved him towards the stairs.

"Just go! You can thank us later!"

"Right," Sirius said, already half-way up the cellar stairs towards the kitchen. The flames in the fireplace were burning green: apparently the Mrs of the house had already Powdered them. From here, too, he could hear the wail of a broken perimeter charm -- just one, and by the sound of it, their visitor wasn't a corporeal one. He tossed a grateful smile towards the mistress of the house before diving into the flames.

"London Floo-Port!"

The friendly kitchen spun away behind him. He reached the Floo-Port and then, in quick succession, Moscow Port, Knockturn Alley Books, Azkaban guardhouse, and finally the Leaky Cauldron, where he pulled his hood up and sank anonymously into a chair in the shadowy corners of the pub. Barely five minutes had elapsed since he'd been woken by his host.

His oddly sharp dream returned freshly to his mind, filling him with pain and an unmeasurable, endless longing. _Oh, Fin... _

* 

At the same time, Peter was waking slowly from an unhappy sleep. His dreams had been filled with shadowy threats, vague grey formlessness, and the faces of his friends. They had been dead. 

He shuddered, pulling the blankets closer. He couldn't seem to forget the dream -- couldn't forget seeing James, Lily, Angel, Remus and Sirius staring accusingly at him from blank dead eyes, while worms wriggled cheerfully through their decayed flesh. _If I let them die, I'm no better than the Death Eaters. I can't just wait helplessly any more! I have to do something. I have to move! He had never been at his best sitting around and thinking; action had always seemed easier to him. _

The problem now was that there _was no action to take. He could do nothing except wait, and see what You-Know-Who decided to do with him. Sitting up, Peter forced himself to let go of the horrific images that had plagued him all night. His mouth tasted as though he'd eaten old socks, and when he went to clean his teeth he saw how haggard he looked. __I look like I've spent a night dreaming about horrible things that could happen to those who trust me, he thought wryly, glad that even the small act of cleaning his teeth seemed to restore a semblance of normality to the morning. He shaved and found a clean set of robes to wear, and in doing so managed to almost forget the sight of Lily and James rotting away in the dirt. __Whatever happens isn't my fault any more. They chose me, so it's on their own heads. Voldemort makes me tell, I don't have a choice. If James were in my position he'd do the same. But that last justification stuck in Peter's throat; he knew James wouldn't __ever betray anyone. It just wasn't in him. __I wish I was more like James..._

An idea struck him as he was running a comb through his hair, trying to make it spike the right way. _I can't just do nothing. But I can try to warn them, at least... right?_

Minutes later, he was Apparating to the centre of Godric's Hollow, as close as he could to the charms protecting the Potters' house.

*

_Dear Albus_

_I'm not going to mince words -- I feel awfully guilty skulking behind shields like this. Is there any way I can rejoin you on the fighting front? I -_

James scrunched up the parchment and threw it towards the bin, where it joined a heap of similar crumpled bits of paper. "I can't make it sound right!"

"That's because it's the wrong thing to do," Lily said serenely. "You know you have to stay with us, and you know Albus won't let you help him any further, because you've been targeted. So you may as well give up." She put down the cup of coffee she'd brought him and perched herself on the table beside him. "You're just trying to fill in time."

"I know." Sighing, James pushed the rest of the parchment away and dropped his quill on the top of it. Lily slipped her hands around his shoulders and began massaging him. "That can't stop me wishing I was able to do more to help them. I feel guilty about just hiding here."

"We've only been hidden for a day, and you're already fretting? Consider it a well-earned holiday, Mr Potter," she said. "We haven't had this much time to ourselves since... since a long time ago, anyway. Just _think of all the things we could do..."_

James reached up and pulled her into his lap -- and the doorbell rang. Lily looked comically disappointed. "Oh... I'll bet that's Peter. He does have a habit of turning up at the worst possible time, doesn't he?"

James, who knew Peter had no such habit, just laughed at her. 

It _was Peter, and he looked exhausted and worried. James immediately Summoned the still-hot jug of coffee from the kitchen and poured him a strong black cup. _

"What's bugging you, Pete?"

"Well... nothing, really," he said evasively. "I just thought I'd come to see if you were all right."

"We're fine," Lily said cheerfully. "James is just being silly. He wants to go back and fight, and I won't let him."

"You couldn't stop me, woman," James said arrogantly, although a twinkle in his eye betrayed his inner grin. "What, a mere Muggle-born stop _me from doing as I like?"_

Lily lowered her head like a rhinoceros about to charge. "James, do you _really want to be tickled to within an inch of your life?"_

James raised his hands. "I surrender! I surrender!"

Peter grinned weakly. "I hear Harry," he said. 

Sure enough, Harry's wails were echoing from the back room. Lily excused herself hurriedly, and within moments of her leaving the cries stopped. 

"James ... I'm worried I'll fail you," Peter blurted suddenly. "I think you should have another plan ready in case ... in case anything happens."

"Pete, you won't. I've known you for _how long now? Are you calling me a bad judge of character?"_

Peter managed a wry grin. "I'm a Slytherin, remember. We're the ones you can't trust."

"Wrong." James put aside frivolity, since it obviously wasn't working to reassure Peter. "You're the ones with the smart ideas, the ones with the brains to follow things through. Everyone looks up to Slytherin."

"You're telling me you look up to Snape? Or Avery, or Nott?" Peter raised an eyebrow.

"Snape's smart, you can't deny it... even if he is an insufferable git." James laughed suddenly. "Avery's so tall that even Sirius looks up to him!"

"Not the point, Prongs." Peter frowned mock-severely. "Ten from Gryffindor."

"Seriously, though, Mouse? I don't think you need to worry. You're a stronger person than you think. You'll be fine. It's Sirius who wants to watch out, because that's who they'll be after."

"I'm not convinced, James. I really think it'd be better if you had a fallback plan."

"He's right, you know," Lily said unexpectedly from the door, having just returned with Harry in her arms. "We should have another option. The Fidelius can't keep us hidden for ever, no matter what."

James was silent for a time, while Peter nodded firmly. "They'll sort it out eventually, you know," Lily added. "Besides, I don't feel right putting you-" she smiled at Peter "- or Sirius - in danger for any longer than we _have to."_

"So what should we do?" James asked, agreeably. "Run away and hide? There's always the Potter estate in Wales, but... what difference does it make, whether we're there or here or somewhere else? The Fidelius is the same."

Lily shook her head, exasperatedly sending tendrils of scarlet hair flying free from her bun. "We _won't go to the Potter estate -- we'll go somewhere where they won't look for us. That way, at least when the Fidelius is gone they __still won't know where we are, and we'll know that the Charm's off, so we'll have the advantage."_

"Yes! Do that!" Peter's enthusiasm was obvious. "Then you'll be safe even if I fail." 

"You _won't fail, Mouse," James reiterated. "But if it makes you happy, we'll move away."_

"Typical male," Lily said. "Won't listen to me, has to be convinced by another male first..." She grinned, obviously pleased with the solution. "Look, Mouse, Harry wants you to hold him!"

The baby was reaching pudgy arms towards Peter's spiked hair. "Pike," he said firmly. "S'arp. No!" The last word was such a good imitation of Lily that both men burst out laughing. 

"Yes, Harry, spikes are sharp. Spikes are a 'no'," Lily told her son, choosing to ignore them both. "Good boy. _You won't impale yourself on a fence when you fall off the roof, will you?"_

James stopped laughing and became very interested in his boots.

"Prongs? Did you fall off the _roof?"_

*

The sun was fairly low in the western sky when Sirius became aware that he was being followed. He didn't change his stride or look around, but he did alter course towards a slightly less populated area of Magic London. He was confident he could deal with a single follower, and he _definitely didn't want to draw attention to himself._

He reached Chamber Lane without mishap; halfway along it, he ducked quickly into an alley too small to have a name -- nothing more than a metre-wide gap between buildings, really -- and concealed himself behind a rubbish bin, wand in hand.

Soon enough, he heard soft footsteps in the lane. His follower stopped abruptly level with the little alleyway; he assumed they were looking around. Presently the footsteps started down the alley, quite slowly. Sirius waited. 

When the person -- a small figure in a bulky cloak -- came level with the bin, he pounced forward, slamming the figure back against the opposite wall, and levelling his wand at their throat.

Then his brain caught up with what his eyes were seeing.

_"FIN?"_

Her hood fell back, revealing her familiar features. Sirius stepped back, numbness giving way to a wild, desperate hope. "Fin? Is it -- is it really you?"

She closed her eyes briefly. "It's me, Star."

"I don't understand," he said. He reached out a shaking hand to touch her cheek. "I -- you're dead, Fin." She felt warm, healthy, _alive. _

"Obviously not," she whispered, covering his hand with her own. 

Sirius wrenched his hand away and stepped back sharply. "No, you're _dead. I identified your body, Fin! I was at your __funeral! You can't be here. Who are you?"_

She didn't make a move, just looked at him with those heartbreakingly beautiful eyes. "Star -- Sirius -- it _is me."_

Sirius didn't realise he'd been backing up until his back hit the brick wall behind him. "Don't do this! Whoever you are -- don't! I saw your dead body, Fin, it couldn't have been anyone else." His voice broke sharply. "Just go away."

Fin watched him, her tiny hands folded across her stomach in a way so painfully familiar that he bit down hard on his lip. "Sirius..."

"Don't do this to me," he cried, tasting warm saltiness on his lips. "Findabhair is dead!"

"Sirius." She was kneeling beside him now, and he realised he was sitting -- his back pressing into the rough wall, his knees up in front of his chest. She laid a cool hand on his face. "Sirius, I'm not. I'm real, I'm here, I'm alive. This is _me."_

"Dreams don't come true!" He reached out blindly to push her away. 

She stepped back, her thick robe leaving trails on the muddy ground, anxiety lining her narrow face. "Star. Do you remember the day we first met?"

Her voice was compelling, and Sirius found himself answering through the ashes that filled his mouth. "Of course I do. We were on the Hogwarts Express, and you were staring at Remus."

"I knew what he was and he knew me. He, and Danielle. But she's gone now, isn't she? She was my closest friend, until I knew Lily."

"You and Danielle... it used to annoy me, that you were so close when you were Slytherin and she Gryffindor."

"You used to tell her she was a traitor to her house. She had a huge crush on you for years."

"Yes, and she wouldn't say a word for fear of hurting Lily."

"I remember you telling me about the night she owned up... you said you'd never told anyone else what she said."

"I never have."

"And you never told anyone where we went after our engagement party, either, did you?"

"Never. It was a secret for a while ... and then I couldn't talk about you. I couldn't."

"Remember the green-painted waitress?"

"And the frogs in the waterfall..." He raised his eyes from the heels of his boots, an urgent hope springing back up in him.

"And I told you that I'd always love you, even though you were so ugly..." She had moved back to him, and her fingers traced his scar lightly. "And you said the pain had been worth it, since I was there to heal you."

Sirius reached up to take her hand, and this time he didn't pull away. "Fin... it _is you."_

"Always and forever, my Star."

*

"I don't understand, though."

It was only a short time later; he and Fin were seated across from each other at a small table in the back of the Leaky Cauldron. She wore her glamour; all most people would see was a short plain woman with frizzy hair. Sirius still couldn't keep his eyes off her, nor a foolish grin off his face. The touch of her hand on his was electrifying, bringing all the happiness of their time together back in a flood. He thought he must be glowing with the energy he felt; and indeed, a few old ladies smiled indulgently at him, as if to say _Young love. Oh, you lucky thing._

"What don't you understand, Star?" Fin looked as if she felt the same way; flushed and breathless, her fingers twined with his, her eyes shining like the star she named him.

"Where have you _been? When I thought you were dead -- well, I wasn't interested in living much myself, for a while. Wasn't there any way you could have contacted me -- let me know you were OK?"_

"I ... don't know," she said slowly. "I don't know where I was. I can't remember much -- only a vague grey coldness, and a terrible choking feeling. I can't explain." She shivered delicately, and Sirius instinctively reached across the little table to hold her closely.

"It's all right. I'm just being selfish," he told her. "Don't worry about it."

Fin glanced up at him gratefully, and rested her head on his shoulder. "I'm so glad to be back."

"Oh, just wait till we tell everyone!" Sirius exulted suddenly. "They'll all be so happy!"

"I'm so happy now," she said, into the hollow of his neck. He could feel her warm breath through his shirt, giving him goosebumps. "I just want to stay like this forever."

Sirius folded his arms around her, wrapping her inside his cloak as well as hers. 

She laughed. "The table's digging into me!" 

"I can fix that," Sirius remarked, and moved himself around to her side, scooping her into his lap. "See? No more table!"

Fin snuggled in against him. "I can't wait to see everyone again," she murmured. "Especially Lily. Did she miss me?"

"Miss you? Of course she missed you, you silly pumpkin!" Sirius felt giddy, elated, as though his head was filling with hot air. Fin was back! Fin was back, and everything was going to be perfect.

"I'd like to visit her. We have a lot to catch up on."

"We'll go tomorrow," Sirius promised rashly. "We'll go everywhere you want us to." The warmth of her against him was making him feel intoxicated. "Anything you want me to, I'll do. Anything."

"Where are they now, Sirius?" She sounded oddly hazy. "Where have they all gone?"

"Everywhere. We're losing, Fin... there's not many of us left. They're all scattered. Remus is in Belfast, in Northern Ireland, working with the resistance there."

"There's a resistance group in Belfast? I never knew that..."

"I wish there weren't. I hate being part of 'the resistance movement' when just five years ago we were the major power. But Voldemort's too much in control now, there's nothing left but a pitiful resistance..." He stroked her hair, feeling her shiver. "We'll survive, Fin. Somehow, we'll make it through. We always do."

"Almost always," she murmured, and he thought briefly of that awful day two years ago when he'd realised she _hadn't made it through. As if she knew what he was thinking, Fin smiled up at him, a smile so perfect he lost his train of thought completely._

"How about Peter, where's he these days? And Anne? How did the wedding go?"

The smile fell from Sirius's face. "The wedding was fine... it was beautiful. We went to Australia and they were married on an idyllic beach."

Fin looked sharply at him. "Then what? Something's wrong, Star."

"Anne's dead," he said. "On their honeymoon. Voldemort -- Peter woke up to the Dark Mark hovering above their bed. Anne's gone, Fin."

Fin bowed her head, her expression unreadable. "How's Peter now?"

"Withdrawn. Depressed. He's in Birmingham, with the group there -" Sirius cut himself off. "No, that's not right. I don't know where he's gone. He's in hiding now."

"He's in hiding? Why? That makes two of you."

"Five," Sirius said. "James and Lily have hidden, too..."

"You, James, Lily, and Peter. I count four." Fin smiled impishly. "Of course, you never were that bright to start with..."

"You missed one," Sirius told her. "Harry."

She blinked. "Harry who?"

"Harry Potter," Sirius said, enjoying the look of surprise on her face. "Lily found out she was pregnant just after - just after we lost you. I'm his godfather." 

"Harry Potter..." she whispered softly to herself. "Hmm. What's he like?"

"He's fantastic. He's the brightest spot in everyone's day... he has the sweetest smile, and these incredibly bright green eyes."

"Well, look at you," Fin teased. "The doting godfather already... You're going to spoil that lad."

Sirius tilted his head to the side to see her better. "So what if I do? I always told James we'd corrupt him."

"Where are they? I'd like to see them even more now!"

"They're ... in hiding," Sirius said. "They used the Fidelius Charm. Nobody can see them or speak to them except ... the Secret-Keeper." 

Fin laughed. "Poor James, having nobody to talk to except you and Lily - and Harry, I suppose."

"Oh, it isn't me," Sirius said. "It was going to be, but they switched it."

He felt her tense. "It _isn't you? Why on earth not?"_

"Fin, are you all right? You look - odd."

"I don't believe it! Why wouldn't it be you?"

"Fin! What's wrong?" 

She sat upright, her face a mixture of emotions - anger, confusion, frustration and something else, something darker. Sirius felt a tiny swirl of anxiety penetrate the bubble of happiness that had enclosed him for almost the whole evening.

"Oh, _shit," she said. "_It isn't _ ___yo_u!"_

Sirius caught at her wrist as she went to climb off him. "Findabhair! What's going on?" She ignored him, and he tugged at her hand, forcing her to swing back towards him. There were tears in her eyes -- and she'd dropped the glamour entirely. Her triangular face was creased with emotion. 

"Sirius -- oh, Sirius, I'm so sorry," was all she said. She wrenched her wrist out of his grip and ran, her cloak flying out behind her. Sirius gaped.

"Well? Are you going to chase her?" a wizened little man sitting at the next table asked irritably. "She'll be angry if you don't..." But Sirius was out of the door and after her before the man could finish.

Fin was a fleeting shadow, already halfway down the Muggle street that the Leaky Cauldron opened into. Sirius, his mind in turmoil, chased her desperately. "Fin! Fin, come back!"

She hesitated for a moment, and then ducked into a side street. Sirius knew he didn't have a chance of finding her among the dark alleyways --

--but he could in canine form. Barely hesitating, he dropped into the shape of the familiar black dog. Fin's scent stood out clearly in the night, tinged with fear, anxiety and misery - he galloped after her at his top speed.

She was waiting crouched behind a low garden wall, scrubbing at her eyes and trying not to breathe loudly. In human shape, he would have run right by; as the dog, he leaped the fence and landed on human feet. Fin turned, frightened, and he caught her hands.

"Fin?" he asked, uncertainly. She had been crying -- was still crying, sobbing softly as he held her. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. 

"Oh, Sirius... I don't want to do it any more!" 

"I don't understand, Fin," he repeated, feeling suddenly like a little lost boy again. His emotions were almost as tangled as his thoughts - joy at finding Fin again had been shadowed by fear of losing her and hurt that she'd run from him, tinged by a horrible dark core of suspicion that was forming in his mind. What was going on?

She leaned into him, crying. "I have to, Sirius... that poor child, I can't do it... I have to!" He felt her breathe deeply and stop crying. She stepped back slightly from him, reaching up to place a hand on either side of his face. He stared, completely lost at sea.

"I love you," she said. "I have always loved you." Her voice was quite steady - he wouldn't have believed she could have been crying desperately just a second ago. "I always will." Then her voice took on a different tone, like steel sheathed in velvet - soft, but immovable. "_Sirius. You will tell nobody you have seen me. You will forget that I have been here." _

Sirius would have pulled away at the first sound of that tone, had he been able to move - but he found himself transfixed. Dread ran through his veins like something alive, and he watched Fin through fearful eyes. 

She went on, after a pause to gather herself. Although her voice was steady and strong, her face was crumpled and her grip on his face was shaky. "_Peter is the Secret-Keeper, yes?"_

"Yes," Sirius found himself saying, through a mouth that suddenly seemed thickly coated with lint. 

She nodded. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," she whispered, so softly he barely heard her. _"You will speak to nobody. You will go somewhere safe and stay there." _

Sirius suddenly felt his blood turn to ice inside him. A rock seemed to have lodged in his throat. Fin had moved slightly, turning to see if anyone was coming, and her voluminous sleeve had fallen back. Marring the perfect white of her inner arm was an ugly black skull - the Dark Mark.

He stopped breathing. For a wild instant, he wondered if he'd ever bother to start again. Fin, Dark? That didn't make any sense. But nothing made any sense tonight...

Life returned to him in a sharp rush of agony. Fin had released him, stepping carefully backwards, her eyes fixed pleadingly on his. He stared helplessly at her.

"I'm sorry... I love you," she whispered, almost soundlessly. Then she turned and fled. Sirius stared after her for a futile instant before his legs gave way underneath him. The grass was wet beneath him, and he knelt there for a while, hands full of damp earth, head bowed. He didn't realise he was crying until a warm drop splashed on his hand. He didn't care much... just wondered vaguely if it was blood or tears he was crying. He rather thought it would be the former.

Then his rage and pain roared up inside him, demanding to be let out, and he flung his head back and screamed at the endless uncaring sky.

*

**Revised 11th January 2003**


	4. Saturday: Redemption Too Late

****

Fidelius Week_  
by Weaver_

Part Four of Seven

Starring Miserable!Findabhair, Enchanted!Sirius, Tortured!Peter and Busy!Potters  
In which the Potters prepare to move away, Voldemort discovers just who is the Secret-Keeper, Peter is captured and tortured, and Sirius breaks free from Fin's spell just a little too late.

_SATURDAY: REDEMPTION TOO LATE_

In a ruined manor house somewhere in Gwynedd, Fin sat on what had once been the pedestal of a statue and cried. Seeing Sirius again had brought so much back to her -- the happiness of her days at Hogwarts, the joys of having trustworthy friends -- and running through the rush of love and happiness, a twisted thread of bitterness and betrayal. She could not be whole again, not until the world was whole. The Dark Lord had offered her peace, and protection, and challenges to suit her mind - and she'd never seen the darkness hidden behind it until now. Oh, surely she'd known before -- but seeing the only man she'd ever loved fighting desperately against it brought the reality of it all home. She dashed the tears away as fast as they came, but there always seemed to be more. Alone under the sky, in the shattered ruins that had once been a home, she cried for a long time.

"What have you learned, Finthavir?" A shadow against the broken walls moved, and became Danielle Wilgarr. The vampire came across to stand before Fin, her long hair catching the moonlight and gleaming blackly. Fin glanced up miserably.

"Enough."

"Did he reveal the Thecret to you?" Danielle's lisp was hardly noticeable any more; when she had been younger, less used to her fangs, she had been almost incapable of pronouncing the letter 's'. Now she only slightly twisted Fin's name, usually. Her lapse tonight was the only thing that revealed her nervousness: every inch of the tall dark woman was regal and dignified. Fin caught her mind wandering and brought herself firmly back on-topic.

"He's not the Secret-Keeper," she said unhappily. "It's Peter. I needn't have even gone! Oh, Dan, you can't imagine how bad it was..."

A slight softening of the vampire's harsh stare was the only change in her expression. "The Dark Lord will be here shortly. Would - would you like me to giff your report for you?"

"Oh, would you?" Fin could hear the relief in her own voice, only just then realising how much she'd been dreading making that report. "I really don't want to stay... I just want to go home and be miserable alone." She sniffed. "I miss him so much, Dan! Seeing him just ... brought back so much... I hated to do that to him. I hate myself."

"You had to, Fin," Danielle said, sitting on the plinth beside her. "You had to do it. Don't feel bad about your dutieth, Finthavir, there is no other way. Tell me what you have to report?"

Fin sighed, sniffed a few more times, and dried up her tears. "There's a Resistance group in Belfast, apparently, and Remus Lupin is working with them. And another in Birmingham. And Peter Pettigrew's Keeping the Potters' Secret. That's it."

Danielle nodded, deep in thought. "Well, we can shut those down easily enough. I think the Dark Lord haz planned to gather the armief around Belfast way anyway. Lupin'z a werewolf, no? That will make things simpler."

Fin stared at her, half of her mind envying Danielle's way of planning so easily and effortlessly, the other half appalled at the casual way the vampire talked about murdering and killing - killing those she had once been friends with. And more, too - she was appalled that she had spoken the same way for years on end and never noticed. _Something is different with me tonight. Sirius - Sirius has changed me. He always brought out the good in me, and now I am seeing the evil in myself._

"I think I should go, Dan... and thank you a thousand times. I'm going to go to sleep."

"You owe me," was all the other woman said.

*

Morning came, the light creeping slowly over the earth, and found Sirius making his way dazedly towards the Leaky Cauldron. He had no idea where to go, but he knew he had to find somewhere safe and to stay there. He had to speak to nobody. And something tickled at the back of his mind, something that he knew was vitally important -- but he couldn't grasp it, no matter how hard he tried. His mind felt hazy, loose, as if something else had come in and slit its moorings. He had to go somewhere safe and stay there. That was all he could think of. _Go somewhere safe and stay there. Speak to nobody. Tell nobody I was here. Forget I was here. Go somewhere safe and stay there. _The words echoed in his mind, the only certainties in a world of slippery ghost-shadows. They were rock, and he leaned on them for direction.

A wizard who he vaguely recognised came up to him in the street and took his shoulder. "Black? Black, are you all right? You look terrible."

Sirius shook his head, numbly, unsure why the wizard - who he vaguely recalled as a Hufflepuff from his year - would ask if he was OK. Didn't he look all right?

"Black, you should really go and lie down somewhere," the Hufflepuff advised him, looking anxious. "It isn't safe to be wandering the streets any more, especially not if you're drunk - you _are_ drunk, aren't you?"

"Gotta go somewhere safe and stay there," Sirius mumbled, his tongue and lips feeling thick and heavy like lead. "Can't speak to anyone. Can't."

"Listen, you really look like you could use a hand -- are you going to the Leaky Cauldron? I can take you there, if you like..."

"Goin' somewhere safe," he mumbled, barely listening, just forging ahead. The Hufflepuff hurried along beside him, taking two strides to every one of Sirius's - it struck Sirius as vaguely funny that he, Sirius, was tall and broad-shouldered and the little man was short and tubby, but he couldn't raise a laugh - something seemed to have blocked him from being happy.

They reached the Leaky Cauldron, and the little Hufflepuff, with a glance at Sirius, paid for his room for a night. Sirius felt he ought to be grateful, but the man was gone almost as soon as he'd paid. He stumbled up the stairs and almost fell through the door of his room; old Tom the bartender helped him to the bed. Sirius, in the brief moment before darkness claimed him, wondered if he ought to take off his boots.

*

"Daoine Sidhe, Daoine Sidhe, will you wake?"

Fin groaned and lifted her head. She was lying on the floor, fully dressed, her eyes full of muck and something awful, something terrible, weighing down on her head. She felt the _mesmer_ she'd placed on Sirius bulge, as if he was fighting back - _and of course he's fighting! Did you ever know Star to give in without a fight, Findabhair?_ - but the enchantment held, and soon relaxed into the pattern that meant he was sleeping. Only then could Fin spare the attention to look around

Her house-elf was hovering around, hopping up and down in anxiety. "Daoine Sidhe, wake, you must wake!"

"I'm - I'm moving, Daine," she muttered, pushing herself off the carpet, which felt stuck to her face and skin. Daine hopped around her, squeaking nervously, until Fin backhanded her across the face. "Shut up."

"Oh, Daoine Sidhe, forgive me!" Daine cried, getting up from where Fin had knocked her. "Daine worried so, when you woke not - Daine feared for you - forgive me!"

Fin glanced down, at the worried creature almost as tall as her chest, and felt a stab of remorse. Had she really just swatted Daine? And how many times had she done that over the past years, taking no more notice of the elf than of a fly buzzing about her head? What had happened to make her this way? She shivered, suddenly aware of the many things missing in her life.

The room she had lived in since her 'death' was filthy, encrusted with dirt and spiderwebs. The light came in only dimly through the narrow window, itself almost opaque with age and dirt, but even that small amount of light was enough to show her the terrible mess. How had she never noticed that before?

Well, she knew the answer to that one, at least. She had been so devoted to the cause, spending every waking second in the Dark Lord's abode, that she'd never bothered about her own belongings except to see that the bed was comfortable enough to sleep in. Suddenly angry, she ran to the little window and banged at the latch. When it didn't open, she blasted the opaque glass with a word, and the sun flooded in. Dimly, she heard the glass shards tinkle on the corrugated iron roof many stories below, and she wondered if her life had gone with them.

She couldn't stay with the Dark Lord, she knew that now. Seeing Star's devotion to his cause, and yet his refusal to use the Dark Arts when he could so easily have stopped her with any minor Dark spell - something in that had called to her, and something in her had answered. She could not stay with the Dark Lord. There was not a chance. But -- what could she do?

And then the Dark Mark burned on her arm, a lance of fire straight into her innermost self. Gasping, she clutched at it, feeling the incredible pull of the Dark Lord's will. "I have to go," she called to Daine, and Disapparated.

*

"Accio Lily!"

Lily found herself flying through the air, the box she'd been packing falling to the ground. She had time to roll her eyes before she landed in James' arms. He grinned at her, that charming smile she'd watched him developing since his first year at Hogwarts, and put her gently down.

"I needed your help. I don't know how to make these books fit into this box straight."

"James," she scolded, taking his armful of grimoires from him, "that's not how you treat them! They'll bite you if you try to shove them in like Muggle books!"

"Oh, are these magic books?" He picked one up for closer inspection. "_Muggles: A Comparative Study of Home Habits. _Are you sure?"

"Yep, I'm sure," Lily said. "Muggles don't even know they're called 'Muggles'. Only a wizard would write a book with the work 'Muggle' in the title."

"Pretty stupid book," he remarked, dropping it towards the cardboard box. It flapped angrily, flicking its cover out at him and leaping up towards his face. "Aargh!"

"James!" She pulled the book off his nose and patted it, tucking it back into place. "Maybe you should go and do Harry's room, and I'll do these?"

James, rubbing his nose, agreed, and Lily applied herself to packing the books carefully into the box, soothing each one as she slipped it in. The silence from the back of the house worried her a little, but she determined to finish the bookcase before checking on her husband.

She found James sitting on the floor, watching Harry try to walk towards him. Both of them were laughing, happy: Harry stumbled as she watched, and James caught him before he hit the ground. Harry waved his baby fists in the air and screamed with laughter.

"Working hard?" she asked, grinning. James reached up, not taking his eyes away from Harry, and pulled her down to sit beside him. She rested her head on his shoulder, watching Harry clamber to his feet and toddle towards his favourite toy broomstick.

"He'll be famous one day, you mark my words," James told her, smiling widely. "Just look at the way he holds that broomstick..." And indeed, Harry clung to the tiny broom as if born to fly. Lily felt a sudden premonitory sadness, watching her beautiful son play, but she wiped it away, and soon it was forgotten.

*

The front door shattered, splinters of wood flying down the corridor and embedding themselves in the wall at the far end. Peter, who was eating his dinner, felt a sudden sharp relief. _They've found me at last. I won't have to worry any more, and James and Lily will be safe._

He stood up, pushed his chair in and waited for the Aurors.

Unfortunately, it wasn't the Aurors, a fact he realised as soon as the first _Crucio_ hit him.

*

A sense of something unfinished nagged Sirius into wakefulness. The clouds surrounding his thought were as thick as ever, but he couldn't remember anything important - only that there _was_ something, and that lives depended on it.

The sun shone through the window, and he watched the square of light crawl across the floor while he fought to regain mastery over his own mind. It was something deeply horrifying, he was sure; something that hurt him immensely.

The light turned yellow-gold, and became less. Angrily, Sirius pushed through the clouds, getting angrier and angrier the more they fought him back. What was there to be remembered?

Somebody. He'd seen somebody. As the mist lessened, he found words imprinted there: _"Tell nobody I was here. Forget I was here. Go somewhere safe and stay there. Speak to nobody."_

I am safe. I am in the Leaky Cauldron, he told himself, recognising vaguely the dirt-encrusted ceilings. The dust on the tops of the paintings recalled the mists to his mind, and he found himself wondering vaguely if the sky was really as dark as it seemed, if he'd really lain here unmoving the whole day.

Speak to nobody. But he had a dim recollection of seeing somebody - an old classmate? - in the street, and saying a few words to him. So this - his memory supplied the word _mesmer_ - didn't have him fully under control. That was good. That was heartening.

Mesmer. Fin used to be able to use the _ mesmer_ on people, but he'd never known anyone else to - maybe there was another Sidhe around, working for Voldemort?

The image of a harshly black skull burnt into white skin came sharply to his mind when he thought of Fin, which was strange... he'd felt that his life was over when she died, but the Dark Mark surely hadn't been part of that?

He forced his way past yet another mist barrier, and found an image of Fin looking up at him, tears in her eyes. Last night -- something had happened last night, he was sure. Something to do with Fin and with Voldemort...

Then the fog gave way, and reality hit him with the last rays of the dying sun.

*

Peter's own screams rang in his ears, and it took him a long time to realise the pain had stopped. He became aware of dirt beneath his hands, of raw lacerations along his arms, of the dank air of his Master's strongest cells, and the coolness of night air. Looking up, he knew what to expect.

His wife hung on the wall in front of him, emaciated and deathly pale, her dull eyes fixed on him with desperate anxiety somewhere in their depths. The rags they wrapped her in were soaked in dry blood, stiff and caked; the same blood lay in grimy streaks down her body and in a dark stain on the ground beneath her. Peter fought back a sob, fought the helplessness and utter misery that always assailed him when the Dark Lord brought him before Anne.

"You withheld information from us, Pettigrew," an icy voice said behind him. He turned; it was a woman who had introduced herself simply as "Elaine", a tall woman with thick, shining brown hair, a freckled snub nose, and the coldest eyes he'd ever seen. He had seen her torture children without batting an eye. "The Dark Lord is not pleased."

"I withheld nothing! I swear it! I meant to tell you!"

"The Dark Lord is not pleased," Elaine repeated, unmoved.

"I was coming to tell you today!" Peter cried, desperately. "Please- please don't hurt her!"

Elaine raised one perfectly manicured eyebrow. "I think your behaviour has already earned her a certain amount of pain... we do become so disappointed when you disobey, you know." A snowy smile added to the menace her presence was. "Perhaps we'll burn her a bit... suitably painful, you think?"

"No - please -" Peter blurted, feeling utterly wretched. _James would never have gotten into this ... Sirius would have fought his way out at the first opportunity. I can't do that... I can only do what they say, only try to save Anne..._

"Are you not paying attention, Pettigrew? I said, do you think burning is painful enough?"

"Please don't - please!" he begged. Anne stared down from the wall, impassive - he suspected they kept her drugged or under the _Imperius_ curse. _Oh, God, Anne..._

Elaine smirked, and fell silent. Peter heard footsteps down the corridor, and he blanched, knowing what that meant. The thick door swung open noiselessly: a Death Eater entered, followed by Lord Voldemort himself. Peter cringed.

"So. Wormtail."

"My Lord," Peter whimpered, miserably.

"You did not see fit to inform me of the fact that you are the Potter's Secret-Keeper?"

"My Lord, I intended to come tell you today..."

"Oh?" That one syllable was more threatening than anything Peter had heard before; and somehow, something in it woke the anger that had always smouldered deep inside him. He was tempted to make a smart answer, but knew that wouldn't get him anything.

"Yes, my Lord," was all he dared say.

"Well. You are temporarily useful to me, Wormtail, so I shall instruct Elaine not to hurt you too much."

Elaine's smile grew wider, and she moved forwards.

"Please, no! My Lord, I did everything I could!"

"You will tell me _exactly_ what you did, Peter -- when Elaine has finished. She gets terribly bored, you see - I have to let her have her amusements."

"My Lord, have mercy!"

"I am very merciful," Voldemort said. "I will not touch your woman; only you."

The burst of relief this announcement elicited in Peter was only cut short when the door closed behind the Dark Lord and Elaine's fist slammed into his face.

Every minute I withstand this is another minute gained for James and Lily to escape, he told himself. His front teeth felt loose.

Elaine put a delicate hand under his chin, forcing his face upwards. She studied his jaw intently, frowning slightly. Quickly, lightly, she wiped the blood that trickled from his mouth away; then she delivered another smashing punch.

The treatment continued, for an endless, aching time. The world turned inside out; all he could see was pulsing redness, but he could feel everything she did to him as she systematically and clinically beat him up. Pain rose until it blocked out every other sense: he felt on fire, he froze, he jerked and twitched spasmodically. Finally, darkness rose before his eyes, carrying with it one last image of Elaine's satisfied smirk before it claimed his mind entirely.

*

James leapt up at the frantic pounding on the door, his heart in his mouth. The whole house seemed to be shuddering in time with the bangs. Lily dropped her coffee in shock, and the liquid spread quickly over her white robes, disregarded by either adult.

"Get Harry, Lil - I'll get it," he said, hurriedly. She nodded, looking frightened, and hurried away. James picked up his wand in one hand and the poker from the hearth in the other: somehow, the heavy weight of iron felt more reassuring than his wand, even though he knew he could do a lot more damage with the latter.

The door was leaping almost off its hinges with each thump, the noise shattering the stillness of the night. James stared at it uneasily. Peter wouldn't be coming around this late at night, surely? And why would he be in such a hurry?

The banging ceased, followed by a _thunk_ as if the unseen knocker had slammed their head into the wood. A familiar voice - familiar, but broken and desperately unhappy - yelled "Shit, James, I know you're in there - open _up_, dammit!"

"Sirius!" Relief swamped James. He threw open the door and stepped back.

Sirius ignored him completely, head still resting against the air where the door had been. "Open _up_, James! It's important!"

James stared. "It _is_ open, Sirius. What's wrong?"

A lock of hair fell across Sirius's face, and he impatiently swiped it away. Then he pushed himself off the door-space and recommenced banging furiously on it. "James! Lily! Can you hear me?"

"Yes, I can hear you!" James yelled, just as loudly. "What the hell are you playing at?"

Sirius continued to ignore him completely, and James stood back, baffled.

"It's the Fidelius," Lily said, coming up behind him with a sleepy Harry in her arms. "He can't see us or speak to us, or even see anything we do."

"Paffoo!" was Harry's stellar contribution to the conversation. "Wan' Paffoo!"

"Merlin," James said, staring at his frantic friend. "What can we do?"

Lily looked just as unhappy as he felt. "Nothing. Not unless Peter turns up suddenly. Whatever we do he won't be able to see."

James looked back to where Sirius was slamming his fists into what was apparently solid air. "He can't even hear us? He'll hurt himself..." And indeed, Sirius's knuckles were already spitting from the force with which he banged the 'door'.

"Nothing," Lily said. Harry squirmed around, and she put him down gently. He immediately got up and toddled through the door, diving for Sirius's legs -- and fell straight through his godfather.

James bit off an expletive, staring. "This is awful! What can be wrong?"

Lily shrugged, scooping up a perplexed Harry. James saw the glint of tears in her eyes. "I don't know... I don't want to watch. I'm going back inside."

"Wan' Paffoo! Paffoo wan' Harry?" Harry heaved himself up to peer over Lily's shoulder at Sirius, his wide green eyes puzzled and upset. "Paffoo no wan' Harry?"

"Of course he wants Harry," Lily reassured him. "He's just busy now. Don't worry, he loves you."

James stared at his best friend, feeling helpless and desperately anxious. Sirius continued to alternately bang on the door and swear violently for another ten minutes: behind James, Harry began wailing, and he heard Lily trying to soothe him. Eventually Sirius gave up in mid-thump, obviously realising he wasn't getting anywhere -- he spun on his heel and ran towards the gate, Disapparating in mid-stride as soon as he had leaped it. James gazed at the empty air where he had been for several minutes more, his mind in turmoil.

What was that all about?

*

"Thank you for your time, Auror Fletcher," Dumbledore said politely, ushering the furious man out. "I'm sure you'll catch them next time."

Fletcher, his craggy features fixed in a scowl, stormed away down the hall. Dumbledore gazed after him, a small smile easing his worried features, and then turned and hurried through the corridors to the broomshed. As he soared over the grounds on his way to the ministry, he spotted far below a figure sprinting along beside the lake, indistinct through the night but obviously in a hurry to get inside. Dumbledore frowned -- _I do hope that's not more bad news -_- but he did have to get this to the Ministry before much later, and there couldn't be much more important than the sheaf of paper Fletcher had handed him. Sighing, he poured on the speed, leaving Hogwarts behind quickly.

*

Sirius raced back the way he had come, his long-legged stride covering the ground quickly. He barely noticed, his mind boiling frantically. Dumbledore had just left, according to a frowning Professor McGonagall, and wouldn't be back for some time -- Sirius hadn't waited to hear any more. One thought was foremost in his tumultuous mind: _Find Peter._ Voldemort knew -- Peter was in danger -- James and Lily were in danger -- Harry was in danger - he had to find Peter!

As soon as he crossed the Hogwarts bounds - a fact registered by the sharp tingle of ward edges all over him - he reached for his severely drained energy reserves and hastily fixed Peter's house in his mind. The _Disapparate_ spell took more out of him than he'd believed possible, but sure enough, the world dissolved around him into swirling white mist.

It didn't reappear. Exhausted, traumatised, in shock, it took Sirius several seconds to recognise that he hadn't managed to Apparate - that the white mists of the in-between places were still swirling fluidly around him. When he did, the utter disaster of his situation hit his disembodied mind with the force of a sledgehammer. Wizards and witches had died here - Disapparating too hastily, they'd failed to Apparate at all, and they'd vanished for years. Time passed differently here. Rip van Winkle flashed through his mind - the man was the most famous case of Misapparition ever known, even so much that the Muggles knew his name, if not the correct story - and faded back into despair. What was he supposed to do?

Firmly dispelling the urge to scream, Sirius tried to remember what he'd been taught. _Focus your mind, concentrate, pull yourself together and visualise properly…_ With a supreme effort of will, he recalled his tangled thoughts and pushed them towards the image of Peter's house, so far away. _I can do this. I can do this. I can get out of here._

Slowly, reluctantly, the swirling mists parted as though they were being prised open, and he fell through the gap with a thud.

At least, most of him did. The tear in the world seemed to slam closed on him half-way through, ripping him apart - he distinctly felt the _splinch_ of his legs being torn painlessly away from him. Landing heavily on the lawn, Sirius began a litany of obscenities, and passed out.

*

**Revised 11th January 2003**


	5. Sunday: Overcast

****

Fidelius Week  
_by Weaver_

Part Five of Seven

Starring Broken!Peter, Scheming!Voldemort, Decided!Findabhair, and Splinched!Sirius  
In which Voldemort, Elaine and Lucius begin some serious plotting, Fin makes her excuses and leaves, a random Auror's day is made, a Muggle screams and Sirius is taken to St. Mungo's.

SUNDAY: OVERCAST

"There will be no light; there will be no heat; there will be no life; only the corpses of dead stars and galaxies, ever expanding into the endless darkness and the cold recesses of space... The entire universe marches irreversibly towards its grave."

Mrs Porkins of 6 Stellamort Street was awakened very early by a horrified scream, right outside her bedroom window. Grumbling, her old bones creaking, she wrapped a dressing gown around herself and made her way to the window to see what was going on.

One glance was all she needed; some poor fool had splinched himself outside that nice boy Pettigrew's home, and a Muggle teenager out for a jog had almost tripped over him. Muttering dire imprecations, Mrs Porkins hobbled outside, wishing her husband were still alive to deal with this sort of thing.

"Calm down, dear," she said to the hysterical girl. "It's nothing big - come over this way and have a cuppa -" The girl looked at her blankly, shivering, and didn't even move when Mrs Porkins cast the Memory Charm. "Now you keep on jogging. It's just been a lovely run, nothing unusual, but you've had enough for today, you won't come back this way, will you dear?"

"No, I've had enough for today," the girl repeated sleepily. "I'll just keep on jogging?" 

Mrs Porkins nodded and sent her on her way before turning to the splinched man. She cast a quick Concealment Charm over the two of them; this looked like it could take a while.

The poor dear had done quite a thorough job; all that was left here was his torso, left arm and head. He'd somehow managed even to lose one eyeball, the opposite eyebrow and half his hair. The eye that was left looked desperate, frantic, almost wild - she could understand that, considering he must have been out here all night, but he looked almost on the edge of sanity and surely that wasn't right?

She drew her wand and laid it on his temple, concentrating - it was _definitely_ the worst case of splinching she'd ever seen, she decided. The poor, poor boy! He must have been in an absolutely terrible state of mind when he Disapparated, to end up scattered as widely as this - it was beyond her reach. Sighing, she took back her wand.

The magic fire was easy to call up, once you had the knack of it; a lot of youngsters found it hard to do, but Mrs Porkins had never had a problem. She filled her wrinkled old palm with purple flames and put in a direct call to the Ministry, hoping they could get somebody out here quickly. It looked like being a big job.

*

Lord Voldemort had only had one wing of the derelict mansion he used rebuilt, but that one was bustling with activity. The attack on the Potters was going to be the final stroke in a war that was already won; with the posterchildren of the Light taken out in one stroke, the Dark Lord's victory would be complete, and he intended to make it a decisive victory. All around Fin, Death Eaters were rushing frantically back and forth, planning, preparing, and plotting.

Fin felt like a stone in a sandstorm. She sat perfectly still, in the centre of the hall, an odd heaviness weighing down her limbs, unable to tear her eyes away from the Showstone in front of her - a large crystal globe, supported on a lattice of woven magic, capable of showing any scene the Dark Lord or his helpers directed it to. It was Voldemort's most valued tool, despite Dumbledore's ways of warding against it. Right now, in the centre of the globe, Elaine was giving Peter a thorough beating. Fin watched the scene over and over again. 

Elaine didn't ask any questions, and Peter didn't volunteer anything - it was just pain, sharp blows to the kidneys and back, kneecap-shattering kicks, the kind of sadism Elaine was famed, respected and feared for. Fin watched, almost unseeingly, feeling parts of herself tear loose from their moorings. Her world was collapsing slowly but surely around her ears, and in the rubble she could see only one thing - _Sirius_.

A sharp tap on her shoulder startled her out of her reverie, and she turned - Elaine was standing there, immaculately dressed in a white gown with her thick dark hair piled artistically on the top of her head, looking very elegant and very dangerous. "Do you like the display?" she asked mildly, as if it was really no more to her than that -- a display.

"You look like you had fun," Fin said non-commitally. "Did he talk?"

"Not yet, but he will, oh, he will," Elaine said. She rubbed her gloved hands together happily. "But why are you not busy, Findabhair? Tomorrow night we move."

"Tomorrow?" Fin squeaked, taken aback. She had expected more time to resolve the half-formed ideas drifting around inside her head. 

"Yes," Elaine told her, raising one elegant eyebrow. "Tomorrow at midnight. I trust you will be ready?"

"Oh, I'll be ready all right," Fin made herself say. It was true, too, even if she didn't know quite what she'd be ready for. "You're going out?"

"Naturally," Elaine said. "I have to meet with Lucius."

Fin nodded, carefully not saying what she thought. Elaine was married to Armand Lestrange, true, but it was very commonly known that she and Lucius Malfoy - who was also married - were rather more than just friends. Armand was a rather quiet man with a nervous disposition; it was obvious who wore the pants in that marriage - and Lucius's wife was a pale little wreck of a girl called Narcissa. 

Sighing, she watched Elaine glide away, and forced the idle gossip out of her mind. She had done so little thinking for two years now that she was having trouble making herself concentrate - and gossip was _safe_, reassuring, comforting.

In the Showstone, Elaine carefully and precisely broke Peter's right little finger, laughing.

Coming to a decision, Fin got up and walked resolutely out of the Hall.

*

Through a haze of blood and pain, Peter realised that someone was standing near him. Groaning, he tried to open his eyes - he managed to see, through the puffy slits that was all he could manage, a pair of sleek black riding boots and a whip being leisurely tapped against one ankle. 

"Awake, Wormtail?" Lucius Malfoy's familiar sneering voice asked, and one shiny boot connected with his side, hard enough to roll him over onto his back. The Death Eater was dressed immaculately in riding clothes, his fine blonde hair fringing his face and giving him an angelic look. "The Dark Lord wants to speak to you."

"Dwnatalkt'him," Peter mumbled through lips so swollen and bruised he could barely move them. "G'd nothnto sy."

"Oh, I think you do have something to say, I really do, Wormtail." Was the man _laughing_? Peter had never heard him laugh, even cruelly as he was doing now. Something stirred in alarm inside him. "You see," Lucius continued, "you have a secret that needs to be told. The Dark Lord is your friend, Wormtail, he wants to take this burden away from you."

There was no saliva in Peter's mouth; he made the gesture of spitting anyway. "Fuck you," he mumbled.

Lucius's voice hardened. "Of course, if you choose not to let him help you, we may have to try... other means of persuasion."

Peter didn't bother trying to spit again. "Wha' more c'n you do?" he forced out, realising as he did that he'd lost several teeth. And that was by far the least of his worries.

"Oh, plenty, plenty. For example, this lovely young woman here - I believe she is your wife, yes?"

A lightning bolt of cold, cold fear struck Peter. "'F'you hurt her," he grunted impotently, but let the sentence trail off. He closed his eyes so as not to see Lucius, or the cold, grey stone roof that hung so cheerfully above him. 

"We haven't hurt her yet, Peter," a new voice cut in. He jerked reflexively, recognising Elaine's deceptively gentle tones. "We won't, unless you prove difficult."

Lucius kicked him again, forcing him onto his side, from where he could see the hem of her snow-white dress skimming the dust and dried blood of the floor. She stooped down. "You _will_ tell us the Secret, Wormtail. We really do have far too much power over you for you to do anything else, you know."

"I will _not_."

"Yes, you will." Lucius sounded supremely satisfied. "Come, Elaine, we must be off. Wormtail, I suggest you reconsider your decision, I really do."

"Fuck you," Peter grunted. "_Fuck_ you."

"Oh, come now, there's really no need for that," Elaine said over her shoulder, sweeping out of the room. Lucius held the door for her, and left Peter with a single smug smile.

Peter curled up into a ball on the hard dungeon floor, and the icy stones weren't the only things striking cold into his heart.

And then Voldemort returned, and began to torture Anne...

*

"Yep, you're sure in a bad way, mister!"

"Don't worry, we'll have you out of this and right as rain..."

"Just a couple nights in St. Mungo's and you'll be all fixed again!"

"A couple of _nights_?" Sirius spat, struggling against the friendly Ministry workers. It was amazingly difficult to struggle when you didn't have your legs.

"Oy, oy, settle down, mate! Merlin, he's in a state!"

"You don't understand - I have to get to James! I have to warn them!"

Well-meaning hands pushed him back down. "Mate, stay still or we'll end up stickin' ya legs on ya head." He felt the indescribable crunching sticky feeling that meant they'd retrieved one of his legs and reattached it. It was humiliating. And Fin was out there somewhere - and Peter - and the Death Eaters - and Lily and James... 

"Just let me up!" he begged, uncomfortably aware that his voice was skirting the edge of sanity. "Please!"

The bulkier official exchanged glances with the younger ones. "Mister, you got to stay still while we put you back together. You ain't goin' anywhere like that."

"Then _hurry up_, for fuck's sake!"

"Mate, it makes no difference. You'll be flat on ya back for a couple days either way." The skinniest one patted him on the shoulder. "Think of it as an 'oliday."

"No, you don't understand! I _have to go!_ Fin's out there - she's alive!" 

The bulky one spoke again. "Sounds like a good thing, mister. Everything's okay. Now go to sleep. _Stupefy_!" 

*

The morning had stretched into late afternoon when Fin found herself emerging from Borgin and Burkes in Knockturn Alley; the light was dimming rapidly and the Alley was all but deserted. She knew it wouldn't last for long - at nightfall Knockturn Alley was at its busiest - but for now, she was alone. Which made her duty much easier.

Nobody knew quite where the Ministry of Magic's headquarters were, apart from possibly those who worked there; Fin was no exception. She did know that Aurors regularly patrolled Diagon Alley after dark; she'd spent enough time dodging them to know their exact routines. It was odd to be waiting for them - to not be a fugitive any more, to wear her own face and to walk unhidden in the middle of the street. She wished she'd never given it up. What had the hiding and the darkness brought her? Nothing - nothing but ashes and cold, dusty death. An old Muggle phrase came to her - "_It is a far, far better thing I do than any I have done before._" She whispered that to herself, unsure if she was mutilating the original saying or not, but finding comfort in the words however they went.

The bench she chose to wait on was cold, but no colder than her limbs. When the first blue-robed pair marched down the street, she lifted her hands to put her hood back, but made no other movement. They slowed in front of her bench.

"Ma'am, you shouldn't be out here alone after nightfall," one said, his brow creased slightly. The other one looked at her, looked away, and then did an almost comical double take.

"Findabhair Danaan!" he exclaimed. 

"It is I," Fin said, keeping her voice formal and steady. "I give myself up into your hands."

The first Auror was looking quite puzzled, while the second one looked just shocked. "Findabhair?" he asked. "Aren't you dead?"

She shook her head, brushed her hair out of her eyes, and pushed her sleeve up her arm to show them the Dark Mark staining her skin. _That_ got them moving. She was at wandpoint almost before she could blink, both of them focused and deadly all of a sudden.

"I surrender to you," she repeated, and let them take her away. One word hovered in her mind, blanketing her emotions: _Sirius_. 

*

Sirius was, at that moment, unconscious in the Splinching Ward of St Mungo's, entirely unaware of the time ticking past like an irreversible river of death. And Sunday slipped away, and midnight came, and so began James and Lily Potter's last twenty-four hours of life.

* 

****

A/N: Apologies for the long delay in this chapter. Blame writer's block. Sorry! The quote at the beginning is from Tolstoy, who is almost as depressing as me - I stole it from my philosophy textbook. Meh. All other characters and situations etcetera belong to J. K. Rowling, except for Fin, who belongs wholly and irreversibly to herself.   
Next chapter: A confession, a conviction, a cliffhanger, excess angst and much drama. It will be Monday 31st October 1981, and we all know what that means, don't we...? Look out for _Monday: Breaking Point_, coming soon to a computer near you. Muahahahaa!  
To fetch: Ohhh yes he was. There's no canon that he wasn't, therefore, he now is. ::grin:: Fanfic, honey, it means I can do what I want.  
To nessie: No no no! James, Remus, Sirius and Lily were Gryffindors. Fin, Peter and Snape were Slyths. Anne was a Ravenclaw, I think, and Danielle was a Gryffie. I think that's all the characters I've mentioned here. Still confused? Join the crew!  
To Alix: Well... maybe. ::shifty eyes:: I just like to play with him. On every level. ::grin:: And I kind of liked the idea of the Ebil Ones using physical violence instead of magical. It just seemed right... I don't know. ::shrug:: Schnoogles to you anyway!  
To ColdCoffeeEyes25: Thanks! PS... whinge whinge... write more of Jewel of the Nile? ::blinks appealingly:: Pleeease? Love that fic.  
To Ginny Ha-Ha: I like distracting people. Hee. Makes me happy. ::grins::  
To Ezza: Bite me. ::grin::   
To thistlemeg: Yup. All go bad. All bad bad now. ::grin:: Cheerful, ain't it? Does it make you feel better to know that in about... ::counts on fingers:: twenty-five years, they'll all have happy endings?  
Okay, am leaving. Muchly love you all. Not much longer to go!  
--Weaver 


	6. Monday: Breaking Point

**Fidelius Week******

**Part Six**

**_by Weaver_******

**_Starring Fighting!James, Triumphant!Voldemort, Desperate!Sirius, and Snapped!Peter_**

****

**_In which there is a confession, a conviction, much general unhappiness and much death.  Sirius is angst-ridden and angry.  Peter finally gets a reprieve ... of sorts.  James and Lily fight, fail and fall; Remus makes a long-awaited appearance; and Fin gets upset._**

_"Close every door to me_

_Hide all the world from me_

_Bar all the windows_

_And shut out the light..._

_If my life were important I_

_Would ask, will I live or die,_

_But I know the answers lie_

_Far from this world..."_

**_MONDAY: BREAKING POINT_******

The smell of rotting fruit was heavy in the air.  The orchids, that had belonged to James' family so long ago, now dropped their fruits at random and went unplucked by anyone.  The grounds were thick with dead and dying shoots, and at this time of year they smelt like a graveyard of unburied corpses.  Most people walking through the yard would have found it oppressive and intimidating, a fitting atmosphere for the Dark Lord's headquarters.  

Peter no longer thought of it so.  It was routine, to him, to pick his way unhappily among the prolific trees and into the decrepit cellars of the manor to report his latest spyings, and to bemoan his fate there.  He knew the place now better than he ever had at school.  The memories of playing Quidditch among the freshly pruned trees had faded as the years passed; now he barely remembered the happy summers he had spent here when James' family were alive.  Now, his thoughts on walking through the dead grounds were all of Anne.

Of Anne, who lay in his arms at last - but she was not the warm, firm being he remembered.  Her limbs were withered, shrunk and broken, her face drawn and cold, her eyes rolled back in her head... and the fluttering, life-sweet heartbeat was gone.

_"You have done well, little Wormtail," the Dark Lord had told him.  "__You have earned, at last, the reward you deserve."  And Peter had looked up from the ground, aching from the aftermath of Revealing the Secret to an enemy, and Voldemort had allowed him to hope for cruel, cruel minutes.  Bruised and broken, Anne had been carried gently out and placed in his arms.  For an endless second, the haze had cleared, and she had smiled at him - the lovely, womanly smile he remembered so well.  _

_"Oh, one more thing,", Voldemort had gloatingly told him.  __"Avada Kevadra!"_

Moaning, crying, Peter bent over the body in his arms again. He had hoped, for just a second, that it was he who would die - a painless end to his life.  He should have known better... _it was all his fault._

That statement reverberated around inside his aching head, blocking his other thoughts, clogging up the pathways of his mind till all he could see was Anne's dead eyes, staring at nothing, staring at a sky beyond his comprehension, staring into death.

_It was all his fault._

The darkness in his mind split and multiplied, the clouds growing behind his eyes, threatening a storm.  Gently, he laid Anne on the ground.  She stared through him, heartbreakingly beautiful, heartfreezingly cold, and he turned away to avoid the sight.  

_I have caused this.  I have caused this by being too weak.  She is dead, and it is my fault._

A pit yawned before him, smooth and soft and comfortable, promising rest, promising hope, promising salvation.  He could see how easy it would be simply to slip into that welcoming warmth and never to wake again - never to face the ashes of his world again... it was tempting.

_No!  I am too weak.  Sirius wouldn't do that.  James wouldn't do that.  I will not give up.  It isn't right.  I need to be stronger.  Stronger._

Rest.  Hope.  Forgiveness.  Sleep, beckoned his weary mind.  Always.  You need this, Peter, it's your only hope.

_My only hope.  Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope.  He giggled to himself at the resonance.  __See, that Princess didn't give up either.  She killed the bad guys.  I need to kill the bad guys, then I can live happily ever after._

Dimly, he straightened up, and staggered towards the far edge of the orchard.  _I have to sort this out.  Sirius__ wouldn't lie down and die.  Sirius will be blamed for this!_

The thought stopped him dead.  He slumped against the nearest tree, still unsteady on his feet.  _Shit.  Sirius will be the bad guy!  Sirius the bad guy... heh... _

Blackness threatened to close him in, and with an effort he pushed himself off the tree and stumbled onwards, hands blindly reaching out in the dark.  _Sirius wouldn't lay down and die.  I have to be strong. Strong like Sirius is, or I'll lose everything I have left, I'll die.  I can't give up._

_Sirius doesn't give up ever.  Sirius the bad guy, wouldn't give up.  Doesn't give up.  _

_Sirius is going to think I'm the bad guy.  Just like they all do.  But I'm not the bad guy, I couldn't help it.  He's the bad guy and he'll try to kill me.  I can't let him do that.  Can't let the bad guy win.  Even if he's Sirius and he never gives up.  Can't let Sirius win._

_Have to kill the bad guy or he'll never give up, he'll destroy everything, everything.  I'll get rid of the bad guy, then everything will be all right again and I'll have Anne back and it will all be okay..._

_Sirius is the bad guy, so it's all Sirius's fault. _

_Have to get rid of Sirius._

*

The sun rose over the twisted lane that was Diagon Alley, stretching long rays out through all the east-facing windows of the Ministry's main building.  The holding-room that Fin was seated in had all the warmth of a dungeon, so the gold light was more than welcome.  She put out a thin hand towards the golden glow.

A rapping on the door made her jump, and hug her thick cloak more closely around her.  The guard who entered was bulky and pug-faced, and the scowl he wore boded no good for her. 

"Danaan?" he barked, staring at her, obviously wondering how someone so fragile could be so dangerous.  When she nodded and rose to her feet, he ordered "In front of me.  Two doors down.  Behave."

She walked obediently down the hall, feeling the prodding of his wand in between her shoulderblades.  The door was thick oak, intricately carved with patterns of vines and grapes.  The room she found herself in on the other side lacked any kind of ornamentation: it was no more than a square room with a single table.  On the table was what appeared to be a conch shell, and behind it was a man she knew only by reputation: Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.    
The Dark Lord's voice flashed into her mind.  _The time is not yet right to kill Crouch.  He will die in pain and in misery, at the hands of his own son, as soon as that son is ready for the task.  Not until after we triumph, whatever happens.  Hear me and obey!  _

Fin slammed up mental barriers against the pervading voice, not knowing whether it was her own memory or Voldemort's current presence, and almost beyond caring.  The strains of the past few days were beginning to tell on her.  It took a lot to resist Voldemort.  He was persuasive, enticing, and _strong, and although Fin could match wills with the best of them, Voldemort was different.  She no longer wondered what had happened to the others who had expressed discomfort with the organisation; she knew.  If she let herself rest now, she would be wholly consumed, a mindless prisoner in her own body.  If she didn't rest, she'd collapse, and then he'd take her.  Testing the strength of her barriers, she decided she had maybe five minutes._

Crouch was speaking.  "…a Death Eater, Findabhair?"

"Yes, I am."  
"Are you aware of what you're confessing to?" Crouch hissed, his small eyes sparking.  "I want to make absolutely sure of this, Findabhair of the Tuatha de Danaan.  You knowingly and willingly consented to become part of the most evil, demonic, murderous band on this earth. You tortured and murdered people without fear or regret or conscience.  You used Unforgivable Curses on good men and women, and most probably children as well.  And you're now _throwing yourselves on our mercy?" _

Fin winced away from the tiny drops of spittle flying from Crouch's mouth.  "I'm not throwing myself on your mercy.  I just want to do something to make up for what I've done."  

Crouch, who was standing now, planted both fists on the desk in front of him.  "Do you honestly think _anything can possibly make up for what you've done, you subhuman nothing?" he demanded, breathing hard.  "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just get an Auror in here to kill you now!"_

Voldemort's presence pulsed against Fin's mental barriers, and she staggered.  The burly guard seized her arm and pushed his wand further into the small of her back.  "_Answer the question!" Crouch screeched._

"I know what he has planned!" Fin said hurriedly, forcing her mind blank against Voldemort. 

With a satisfied "Hah," Crouch sat slowly down again, the redness of his face lessening.  "Then you can tell me all about it, and maybe I won't have you fed to a Quintaped."

_Murderer!  Fin's inner voice shrieked at her again.  __You killed David Wilkes! You murdered Anya Goldberg! I'll tell you nothing!_

Crouch raised a single perfectly groomed eyebrow.  "I'm waiting, you thing.  I hope it's worth something."

Her breath came heavily.  Her posture was forced unnaturally straight by the twin pressures on her arm and in her back. And inside her head, the warring voices raged on.

_Tell him! Tell him, and then you have a chance at reaching Sirius in time! You can even save him!_

_But what about Danielle? If you speak, she's going to die.  She, and Elaine, and Severus, and all those you've shared your life with these last two years.  Can you really face that, just for a chance at seeing Sirius?_

_Yes! If you have to, you can do it.  They took just as much pleasure in murdering Anne, and Manora, and William, and endless numbers of Aurors and ordinary Good people.  Crouch is a murderer, but so are your friends.  So are you, for that matter.  _

_Yes, and even more so if you give in and tell them._

_That's not true.  Think how many innocent lives you'll save._

_There is no such thing as innocent lives.  Who do you value more, some unborn child, or your closest friends?_

_Your closest friend is SIRIUS!  _

_It's been two years.  How can you be sure he still cares about you? How can you be sure he still loves you?  What if he's over you - what if he's shacked up with some other woman?  _

_He hasn't!  When you saw him - he loves you! And you love him, don't you?_

_Or do you? Are you kidding yourself?_

_You're not._

_What if?_

"Findabhair! Answer me!"

Fin swayed on her feet, realising her eyes had rolled back in her head, and her mental barriers were weakening.  She could feel Voldemort battering at her; the scar in her arm burned fiercely, and there were flecks of light at the corner of her vision.  "Potters," she forced out, weakly.

Crouch leaned forward. "What about the Potters?"

"Tonight - attack - Harry, James," Fin moaned, swaying. "Pettigrew in danger - stop them getting him… stop him telling…" 

"Speak up!"

"Final triumph - it's his Plan - he wants them all dead… Peter Pettigrew, listen…"  The world was blacking out, a patch at a time.  Blearily, Fin could tell she didn't have much time left as master of her own mind.  "I - guilty - please?" she asked, desperately.

"Don't think you're getting a trial, if that's what you're after.  You're condemned by your own words.  You'll be in Azkaban by nightfall."  

"Sirius?" whispered Fin, desperately, quietly. "Can I see Sirius?"

"Black? Nobody knows where he is."  Crouch's words fell with the finality of a door slamming shut on a prison cell.  And the last of Fin's mental defences collapsed, and Voldemort roared in on a black river of darkness, rapidly eroding all thought.

*

"Oh, who's a little lunatic, then? Who's just like his daddy, hair and all?"

Harry giggled and batted at Lily's hands, his chubby fingers tangling in the hair that hung over his face.  Lily swiped it out of his reach.  "Oh no, you don't, dear heart," she said sternly. "Mine."

The room was in disarray; boxes of furniture and goods were stacked head-high around the walls, and dust motes floated cheerfully in the rays of bright morning sunlight that flowed through the wide-open windows.  A stray fallen leaf drifted slowly to the ground, and Harry struggled to his feet and toddled around after it.    
Lily joined James on the couch, collapsing theatrically across his lap.  "Your son, Mr Potter, is insane."  She laughed, wrapped her arms around his neck, and rubbed her nose in the hollow of his throat.  "Just like his father."

"It's the hair that I worry about," said James, solemnly.  "It's a terrible curse, to be born with the Potter hair. He may never recover from the trauma."

"I like your hair," Lily protested.  "It's lovely and easy to pull."  She suited action to words; James tickled her; she retaliated; the end result was a furious tickling match which Harry watched with wide-open eyes and a toothy smile.  Eventually, the combatants separated, and Lily flopped down exhaustedly on the floor.

"I'm going to miss this place," she said, eventually.  "It'll be nice to live in the country, of course, and it'd be great for you to be back where you grew up, but …"  She sighed.  "This place, you know, we bought it with our own money and our own hard work.  I'll miss it."

"Yeah… Yeah, I know what you mean."  

The sombre mood was lightened when Harry clambered unsteadily onto James's lap and began pulling at his hair.  "Paff? Paffoo?" 

"Paffoo gone, Littlest One," said James, disentangling himself.  "How about we see Mouse instead?"

"Mow?" Harry looked around hopefully.  "Mows?"

"Yeah, he'll turn up.  We're waiting for one last visit from him before we go.  How about that, then? You can see Mow and then go to a brand new home!"

Harry's wide green eyes filled with unhappy tears, but none spilled.  "No!" he said, his lower lip trembling in what Lily thought was a most adorable manner. "No go!"

"Reckon we could just leave him here?" asked James, hopefully.  Lily smacked him.

"Where Harry goes, I go," she said sternly.  

*

Danielle stared into the depths of the Showstone, watching Fin.  The faerie girl lay in a crumpled heap in one of the Ministry's holding cells, motionless, face-down on the grey stone.  Despite Danielle's vows to the Dark Lord and to the Dark Side in general, it still hurt somewhere inside her to see a childhood friend reduced to such a state.  

Findabhair had revealed nothing of the Plan, of course.  Elaine and Lucius had been onto her the minute she revealed herself to those damn Aurors last night, and those two made the deadliest team in Britain.  Danielle would not have wanted to be in Findabhair's place for the world.

Sighing heavily, she discarded Fin's image from the Stone, and sent the viewpoint skittering along the planes of the world, until the grey expanse of the Showstone was filled with sandstone cliffs and sharp sprays of salt water.  _Home.  And she was going there, tonight.  She fought the urge to wriggle._

"Yes, it will be good, won't it?" a husky voice asked from behind her, and it took every bit of Danielle's self-control not to jump.  Instead, she turned slowly and nodded politely to Elaine.  
"So many pothibilities," she said, gesturing at the jagged cliffs and the windy, desolate dunes that lay behind them.  "It vill be wonderful to be there again."  
"Yes," said Elaine, thoughtfully.  "Yes, so many possibilities…"  She tapped her wand against her thigh slowly.  "But I think it is time for you to be on your way already, Danielle Wilgarr.  We have things to do, in the sunlight."  
Danielle knew a dismissal when she heard one, although she was tempted to ask just what they planned to do with the few hours of sunlight remaining.  Surely, they didn't have anything left to organise? Not with the Plan coming off tonight?    
Oh well; it would be Elaine's neck on the line, not hers.

She had forgotten about Findabhair entirely by the time she reached her quarters.

*

Peter had fallen into a heavy doze and was dreaming.  He was in a forest, running endlessly, chasing something white that flickered just barely ahead of him.  He caught it and it was James, but a pale ghost of the James he knew – a wispy, smoky being who stared at him with soulful brown eyes, saying _You can still put this right.  _

"No, no, no!" Peter choked.  "Sirius is the bad guy! Sirius has to die!"  The words were on the tip of his tongue.  He had a vague feeling he'd been saying them for hours, so easily did they roll off his lips.

_Peter, said the James-thing, and then morphed into Anne.  __Peter, she said, desperate and pale and scared, __listen to me.  I love you._

"Dead," Peter mumbled, miserably.  His teeth felt thick with mould.    
_You are innocent, said one of the voices in his head.  __It isn't your fault.  You did what you had to do._

_Me, said Anne.  __You did it to save me.  How can that be bad?_

"S'not," said Peter.  "S'good."  
_Sirius isn't good, said another voice, this one sounding suspiciously like Severus Snape.  __He tried to kill … he's a murderer, Professor! You can't trust him…  
"Yeah…"   
__Peter, I love you, said Anne.    
__Kill the bad guys, that's how all the stories end, something in the back of his mind insisted.  And with that, he woke up, and the noontime sun was burning the skin of his arms through the tears in his shirt._

*

"Peter was supposed to check on us today, wasn't he?  Did he say if he was coming today?"  Having put Harry to sleep, James was anxiously pacing the kitchen.  "I don't like being around here… I feel useless.  We're finished packing, aren't we?"  
Lily glanced up at him, and surreptitiously added another pinch of calming herbs to the tea she was brewing.  "Dear heart, have you ever known Peter let us down before?  He'll come, and if he doesn't he'll have a good reason, you know that."  
"I know.  I just … don't like sitting around doing nothing any longer than we have to.  I want to get back into it.  You know how tight it is, Lil – they need me."  A scowl creased his brow.  "I just can't relax here."  
"There's nothing we _can do, though."  She handed him a mug of hot tea.  "Not till Mouse comes and we can go."  
He sighed heavily, and folded his lanky figure into a chair; a wry grin didn't completely remove his scowl, but it came close.   "I suppose I'm just spoiling for a fight." _

*

Slowly, the sun slid down the sky, and the afternoon passed away.  Cold stars appeared one by one over Godric's Hollow and over Birmingham, where Sirius lay sedated in St Mungo's.  It was past eleven o'clock when he snapped out of unhappy dreams and into full wakefulness, as suddenly as if he'd been doused in cold water.  It took him seconds only to realize where he was; he flung himself out of the soft bed and out of the window in rapid succession, leaving alarm bells ringing behind him as he scrambled over the fences and ran with long strides across the lawns to the road.  Once outside the warding spells, he knew exactly where he was: barely two miles from Peter's house.  Peter's house, where Peter was sleeping peacefully!  _I have to warn him, I have to get there now__!_

Remnants of the sedation spells clung to his mind, leaving his thoughts fogged and difficult to handle, but one thing was crystal clear – his friends were in danger, and only he knew it.  Two days of magic sleep had rested his body, if not his mind, and the silent streets flew past his pounding feet.

But when he arrived at Peter's, Peter wasn't there.  His door, which looked as though it had been recently replaced, creaked in protest when Sirius slammed it open, but there was no other noise in the house.  Peter's distinctive snores were absent, and a sudden fear chilled Sirius.  Slowly, dreading what he might see, he moved on down the hall.  No alarms shrilled in his ears, nor had any gone off recently – no traces of broken magics hovered in the air.  But Peter wasn't there.  No broken furniture, no damaged spell-wards – but the hands on the Auror-spelled clock were spinning aimlessly in circles.    
_He's gone into hiding, Sirius's heart cried.  __He's gone somewhere safe.  He already knows they're after him, and he's gone into hiding._

But he couldn't believe that for long, and when the truth finally hit him, he stood stunned and weak for several seconds.  _He's betrayed them – he was the spy all along!  Memories of Peter avoiding company, making excuses from parties, spending most of his time supposedly alone flickered through Sirius's head.  __We thought he was grieving for Anne – but he was supporting Voldemort!  He's betrayed them!_

And then the next thought hit him with the force of a sledgehammer.  _No, **I betrayed them.  
**__No! There's still time!  He was halfway through the Disapparation spell when he realised he didn't have the control to handle it; but Peter's Floo Powder was in the usual tin beside the mantelpiece.  James and Lily were disconnected from the network – but his own home wasn't, he could get there, and then – and then what? How could he get to Godric's Hollow?   
He landed heavily, face-first, in the dusty floor of his own kitchen, and felt his hip slamming painfully into something thick and metallic lying there – a spanner.  He scrambled to his feet.  __The Bike!  He hadn't touched her since Fin had died, but surely she would understand?    
Some fuzzy thought about Fin entered his mind, but he brushed it away impatiently.  It could wait.  This couldn't.    
The door to the garage was closed and locked, but his spare wand hung in its holster beside it; the door dropped into ashes with a shrieked spell, and the Bike was waiting for him, gleaming under the dust and cobwebs still.  He kicked it into life, blasted the garage doors apart and took off into the sky._

It was a quarter to twelve.

*

Danielle watched the Dark Lord emerge from the shadows at the far end of the hall.  Elaine and Lucius strode beside him, one at each elbow, both dressed immaculately in midnight-blue Auror's robes.  The length of the hall, Death Eaters stopped and bowed to him, Danielle included.   
He acknowledged their bows with a brief glance, and then turned his snakelike face to Lucius and murmured something in his ear.  Lucius, with a sketched half-bow and a flicker of ash-blonde hair, vanished into the shadows again; the Dark Lord strode to the centre of the hall and raised his hands.    
"Tonight," he announced, a note of triumph in that inhuman voice, "we conquer.  You all know your places.  Tonight, we drive out the last pathetic remnants of their Ministry, we defeat for all time the last resistance groups, and," he paused briefly, savouring this triumph above the others, "and I finally have Potter and his family in my hands.  Tonight, Death Eaters, we begin our rule!"

Death Eaters did not cheer.  A rustle of excited movement swept through them, a scattering of nods, and then, one by one, they Disapparated, leaving Danielle and her team alone in the hall, preparing for their own mission twenty-four hours hence.  

*

In Godric's Hollow, Harry woke up and began to cry.  It was eight minutes to twelve when a sleepy Lily padded down the corridor in her nightshirt and scooped him up, her wand still in its holster beside her bed.  James rolled over into the warm spot she had left and sank back into sleep.  Harry's wails quieted as Lily rocked him to and fro.

*

The roaring of Sirius's motorbike shattered the quiet of Godric's Hollow.  Nothing seemed out of place in the town lying spread out beneath him, and yet there was an air of quiet menace permeating the still night.  He wheeled the bike around in the air and forced it into a steep dive, plummeting towards a single house slightly out of town, set on the side of the hill.  Two minutes to twelve, and the shadows were growing.

*

Lily, soothing Harry still, heard the bike and went quickly to the window, recognising it for Sirius's.  It was miles up in the air, so that all she could see was a faint dot of light, not much brighter than the cold stars that dotted the sky.  And then –

A flash of light, a crash of power being released, and the house twitched beneath her feet as the dark-robed figure stepped through the front gate and smashed the weak wards that were the only ones the Fidelius would permit –

A roll of thunder echoed through the cloudless night, and Lily felt the wind touch her face and knew the Fidelius was broken too –

James, wearing pyjama pants, flung himself past her and began weaving defenses in the air, calling to her to run – 

And Lord Voldemort calmly stepped through their front door.

*

Sirius felt it, heard it, knew he was too late.  James's familiar voice cried spells and hexes and desperate words of defiance, and then the side of the house split open in a blinding flash of scarlet flame.  There was a flash of green light and a moment of soundlessness, despite the crashing rubble of the walls, and then James's voice ceased.  Sirius shrieked aloud and forced the bike downwards with all his strength – too far, too far away!

Lily screamed, a sound that pierced his eardrums with pure misery.  He was close – close enough to leap the last few feet to the ground and sprint to the gaping hole that was the entrance to the house now, close enough to hurl himself up the splintering stairs and towards the last door, before the green light and the silence came again, and Lily was quiet.     
And once more the green light flashed, as Sirius's hand clasped the doorhandle, and the great invisible rushing thing that was death flew.    
Midnight struck.  
And with it, a powerful wall of force, rebounding off the centre of the darkness and forcing everything out – walls, bricks, chairs, tables, doors.  Sirius felt it hit him, felt himself flung backwards and out and away from it, and saw the remains of James's house float beside him.  But he did not feel or see himself hitting the ground.

*

**12th January 2003**

**Thanks to Amanda, TAK of TWAK, and Rowe – for inspiring me to get off my butt and finish this chapter.  I promise, the next one won't take four months.  **


	7. Tuesday: Phoenix Dawn

****

Fidelius Week  
_by Weaver  
  
_Part Seven  
_  
Starring Torn!Sirius, Damaged!Peter, Betrayed!Remus, and Collapsing!Death Eaters.   
  
In which Dumbledore makes an unhappy discovery, Remus arrives just after the nick of time, Peter continues down the slippery-dip of his spiralling madness, Dumbledore leaps into action, and the long-awaited Happy Ending spectacularly fails to arrive._

I tried so hard and got so far,   
But in the end, it doesn't even matter  
I had to fall, to lose it all,  
And in the end, it doesn't even matter  
I've put my trust in you  
Pushed as far as I can go  
And for all this, there's only one thing you should know…  
I put my trust in you!

****

TUESDAY: PHOENIX DAWN

Midnight – in the cramped Hogwarts office where last desperate plans were being made, Albus Dumbledore leapt out of his chair and dove for the fireplace; his companions were on their feet and talking wildly only split seconds after. An inkbottle on the desk wobbled and fell in Dumbledore's wake, and the scarlet ink spread rapidly over the worn floorboards.

Midnight – in Belfast, Remus Lupin woke from a nightmare and climbed, sweating, out of his narrow bunk, and the midnight sky had never seemed so bright before.

Midnight – in Azkaban, Findabhair Danaan woke, and stared with hopeless realisation at the dank blackness surrounding her; and then she realised she was alive, and Voldemort was not, and suddenly all the darkness in the world couldn't hurt her. _Except for the dark emptiness in his broken eyes, staring at her as she casually betrayed his every hope…_

Midnight – Peter felt the final shattering of the Fidelius in his bones, as though his spine was a blackboard and the Dark Lord was scratching fingernails along it. And while he was still writhing and yelping with the release of power, he felt the Dark Lord's presence in his soul lift, splinter into a thousand parts, and fade entirely, and he knew that every sworn Death Eater would have felt the same thing. Terror tore through him.

With torn and broken fingernails he scrambled at his left sleeve, pushing it up – the Dark Mark writhed on his arm, sizzling faintly. There was pain, but Peter was far enough gone in madness to hardly notice it. 

Half-laughing, half-sobbing, entirely lost in a world of strange swirling shapes and bleak colours, he turned his uneven footsteps towards Godric's Hollow and tried to remember how to Apparate.

*

Elaine stumbled and fell, tearing at the closest person with sharp fingernails; that person happened to be Lucius, who howled desperately. All around her, she heard moans and screams. She hurt all over - and in her arm, and in her soul, the pain was worst.   
"Go! Go!" she shrieked. "Our Lord has fallen! Save him!"  
"Elaine," Lucius whispered hoarsely, panting, "we can't. It's too late."  
"No! There's got to be a way!" She clambered to her knees in the bushes, seizing the pale-faced Lucius by the shoulders. "It can't be too late!"  
Equally wild-eyed, Lucius tore himself away from her, catching his sleeve on a branch and tearing it open. Elaine snatched at it, pulling it away from his arm; the Dark Mark writhed there, twisting and turning and surely sizzling faintly in the cool night air.   
"Elaine, he's _gone!_" Lucius gasped. "Let go of me – let go! We have to save our own hides right now. There'll be Aurors everywhere in minutes – didn't you feel his protection fading? Let go of me, I say!"  
All the Death Eaters seemed to have the same idea; the faint _pop_s of Disapparation came from all around her now. Elaine shrieked again. "Stay! Stay! Are none of you faithful? _Stay_!"

But they kept on disappearing.

A tap on her shoulder made her spin furiously, ready to lash out; but the offender was her weak-willed husband, looking as haunted as she felt. "They are scared. Can you blame them?"  
"Yes! I can!" Elaine raged. "Are we not all sworn body and soul to him? How _dare _they?"  
"We alone are faithful," said a new voice, a young, frightened boy who she vaguely recognised as the son of some Ministry high-up. "I stay with you."  
"And I," her husband said, firmly.   
"And I," a thick-set Death Eater, hidden inside his robes, told her. "We will bring him back, Lady. _We will bring him back._"

* 

The sky was spinning. Sirius opened his eyes, and it stopped, for the most part; a few small stars wobbled, but he felt fairly stable. "Bad dream," he muttered, and rolled over – something was poking his back. In the act of pushing it away he recognised it as Lily's copper kettle, and reality hit him with a sledgehammer. He lurched to his feet and ran, staggering, towards the centre of the disaster.

The house James loved (_had loved, oh God_) was shattered, smashed, ripped apart. The force of the curse had sent the walls around it flying outwards in a shower of splinters and broken boards, and everything in the house with them; Sirius had landed among piles of rubble at the edge of a perimeter of debris that surrounded what was now a dirt patch, still cloudy and dusty. The faint outlines of the sturdy foundations stood out sharply; there was nothing else to interfere with them. (_couldn't stop it I couldn't stop it_) Stars, dim through the haze lying on the site, and icy moonlight lit the scene brightly; there was no sound at all, apart from Sirius's ragged breathing – oaths from a long-forgotten half-Muggle childhood - and staggering footsteps. (_oh Jesus Christ they're dead they're all dead_ _they're DEAD!)_ His legs collapsed under him; his knees hit the dirt.

Behind him there was a sound. He turned, jerkily, as if he was a puppet on strings, and crawled back towards the ring of debris; but it had only been rubble settling, grey dirt puffing out from under it. (_oh God oh God oh God that's a hand)_ A pale hand lay half-clenched, its owner buried under the rubble that was still sighing in gentle wind-noises as it settled. James's bitten fingernails … (_so cold, he's freezing, get him out OH FUCKING JESUS get him out!)_ Sirius tore at the tiles and bricks and boards covering him, desperately, madly.

*

Remus, still pulling his jacket about his shoulders, his limbs cold from long-distance Apparation, thumped on the door of Dumbledore's Hogwarts office. It was flung open by a joyful-looking Bartemius Crouch.  
"Lupin!" Crouch practically laughed. "Glad to see you!"   
Remus, who had never had as much as a 'hello' from Crouch before and was well aware of the potential Minister's hatred of werewolves, murmured something polite and freed himself from Crouch's overly enthusiastic handshake. "Mr Crouch, what's happened? My Dark detectors are going haywire – all the wards are practically singing with power, just since midnight – what's going on?"

"Lupin, it's over. It's _over_. We've won."  
It took several long, long seconds for that statement to sink in to Remus's astonished brain. When it finally did, he had to sit down. He felt lightheaded. "It's over?" Suddenly Crouch's uncharacteristic affection made perfect sense. The other wizards in the office, most of whom Remus recognised as high-profile Light wizards, were equally joyous, and there seemed to be a lot of alcohol about. 

"It's over." No more fighting. No more desperate nights, no more miserable lonely mornings. No more wondering if his team or his friends had survived each day. No more blood. No more _war_. "It's really over?"  
"Entirely and undoubtedly so, Lupin," Crouch said, returning to the excited huddle about Dumbledore's desk. "It's over. Naturally, there's a bit of cleaning up to be done – we need to find out exactly _how_ this came to be – but Voldemort is no more, and his power is failing right across Britain. We've won."  
Remus sat still, soaking it in. 

And then Dumbledore returned, and told them why, and how, and where Hagrid had gone... 

*

Can I do this can I get it done can I go through with it? I can do anything, the Dark Lord told me so. I can do anything if I have the courage to do it. Disregard the morals of an obsolete society, he told me, what has it ever done for you? I remember … I remember saying no. I remember refusing him. Without Anne there's no reason to refuse him any more. Anne… I can do this. The bad guy gets the blame, they'll blame Sirius. Sirius knows … what does he know? He knows more than he should. Can I do it can I do it can I do it? Sirius. Sirius could send me to Azkaban. I did… what did I do? Who did I kill? Does it matter any more? So many things… so many people died on the information I gave. Gave Him. He told me I can do anything. Wanted me to join him. Save me. He wanted to save me. Didn't save Anne. I said no. Sirius will hate me. Why? What have I ever done to him? I can't do this I can't be safe. Sirius knows… something, Sirius something something knows oh Merlin he knows something that will kill me. I don't want to be killed. Not killed like Anne, crumpled and broken, I don't want to die, because I will go to the bad afterlife. She went to Heaven because I loved her. I love me too. I'm all I have left of her. I want to live. Sirius Sirius Sirius will want me dead. I did a bad thing and I will go to a bad place if I let Sirius kill me. I can save me I can get out of it. I need to live. Godric's Hollow that's where James lives. James. Sirius. James. 

…things are clearer now. I know a redheaded family. They like rats. Rats. I can live with them. A rat. Yes. But first I have to make sure Sirius doesn't kill me… 

*

A gentle tap on his shoulder. "Sirius."  
"We have to get him out!"

"Sirius, c'mere." Powerful arms picked him up and held him, held him away from James who must be so very cold now, it was such a cold night. "Yeh can't help 'im, not till Dumbledore gets 'ere."  
He snap-twisted out of Hagrid's vice-like hold and plunged back towards James. "We have to get him out, don't you understand, we have to save him, he might be hurting!"

The giant arms caught him again before he reached the rubble. James's hand accused him silently, so very white in the moonlight. "Sirius. Yeh can't do nothing. He's dead, Sirius."

Sirius dropped to the ground, a puppet without any strings, feeling again as though the world had delivered a roundhouse punch direct to his gut. _He's dead he's dead he's dead he's dead he's dead. They're all dead. Oh Jesus Christ I've killed them. _Scarcely conscious of his movements, he fumbled for his wand with bleeding hands.

"Yeh don't want ter to do that, Sirius!" Hagrid sounded alarmed, but very distant. Sirius couldn't tell if the world was fading around him or if he was fading from it. He felt insubstantial, apart from the bone-deep ache in his gut. _I've killed them I've killed them I've killed them. I've failed._   
A huge fist knocked the wand from his hand before he could bring it to his temple. "Listen, Sirius, it _wasn' your fault_. Stop being stupid."  
"I've killed them," Sirius mumbled, tasting ashes. "I was supposed to protect them and they're dead."  
"Snap out of it, Sirius!" Hagrid dragged him to his feet by his collar, propping him up. "Listen. Harry's not dead. He needs yeh, Sirius, jus' like we all do. Listen!"  
Vaguely at first, Sirius noted the distant baby's wailing. Then the fogginess vanished from his thoughts. _Harry was alive._

"Where is he?" He swayed on his feet as Hagrid let him go, but managed to stay upright and to follow the giant across the blasted patch of earth. Right in the very centre, crying miserably, naked and filthy and bleeding but _alive_, was his godson.  
"Harry!" Sirius broke into a run, passing Hagrid and practically diving on the toddler. "Harry… Harry, you're alive…"  
Harry sniffed, scrubbing his eyes with one pudgy fist. "Paffoo?"  
Sirius clutched him to his chest until Harry calmed down, and then let go of the tiny boy in order to tear off his outer robes to wrap him in. When he turned back, though, Hagrid had Harry in his arms.  
"Hagrid – he's my godson," he said tensely. "Give him to me."  
Hagrid looked wretched, but held on to the baby. "I would if I could, Sirius. Dumbledore's orders, y'see. I jus' can't."

"Hagrid, don't make me fight you. _Give me Harry_. I'm his godfather."  
"Dumbledore's orders," Hagrid repeated. "Sirius, go an' get some rest. Yeh look like yeh could use it."  
"I won't rest until –" A new blast hit Sirius mid-sentence. _Peter is still walking around out there._ "Okay. I'll come and get him from Dumbledore tomorrow. Take my bike, Hagrid, you can get him away faster. There'll be Muggles all over this place soon." Focused anger, sudden and direct, took over. "I've got something else I need to do."  
"The bike, Sirius? Yeh sure?"  
"I'm sure. I won't be needing it." He waved a hand at the circle of rubble; the bike, charmed against falling from a height, lay on its side in the air above … above … _no. Don't think about it. One thing you need to do first, Sirius, then you can fall apart._ Tenderly, he tucked his outer robe around Harry, and with a corner of it wiped the blood off his forehead. A single lightning-shaped scar marred the smooth baby-skin above the bright emerald eyes, now tear-filled and sleepy. "Paffoo," Harry murmured, sniffing. "Dada?"  
_No Dada. Not any more. And I know just who I'm going to kill for this, too._ Without another look, Sirius walked away, picking up his wand as he passed the boundaries of the house. _Nobody is going to get in my way._

*

The night wore on. It started to rain; big, fat, splattering raindrops, falling heavily on Remus's thin coat and dripping uncomfortably down his neck, soaking through everything until he was dripping wet all over.

It wasn't until nearly dawn that he found Sirius. He had been looking, but he'd almost given up hope when he turned down the side alley behind the house in Godric's Hollow and saw the hunched, crouching figure, almost invisible in the dull predawn light.  
"Sirius." 

He spun around at the sound of Remus's voice, and Remus saw with a shock how gaunt, how pale, how absolutely horrible he looked. "Remus." His voice was a rasping growl. "I'm going to kill him, Remus."  
Somehow the rain must have run down his throat then, because Remus's belly turned to ice. "So it's true, then, Sirius."  
"They're dead," Sirius rasped, turning away – his wand out. "James and Lily are dead, but Harry isn't."  
"So you're going to fix that problem, I see," Remus said, his voice as frozen as his stomach. "Old _friend_."  
"I'm going to kill him," Sirius said, as if Remus hadn't spoken. "I'm going to tear him apart and I'm going to –"

Remus blocked the dry, rasping voice out, unable to accept the matter-of-fact description of just how Siriuswould murder his best friend's son. He wanted to vomit. He wanted to turn and run. He wanted to be anywhere but here. Instead, he raised his wand and pointed it at the back of Sirius's head, with steady hands. "Oh, God, stop it, Sirius! Stop it!"

Sirius, cut off in mid-sentence, turned back towards him, and froze at the sight of the wand. "Remus, what are you doing?"

"What I should have – should have done before you ever lived this long!" Something was blocking his throat. 

"You have to let me kill him!" Sirius, moving jerkily but still with the speed he'd always had, knocked the wand aside and jumped at Remus, hands outstretched. There was blood on his shirt. 

Remus dodged, seized his arms and slammed him against the alley wall with both arms twisted up behind his back. Sirius wriggled and ducked, landed a solid blow to Remus's stomach, and darted away up the alley. Gasping for air, Remus snapped off a hex, and Sirius collapsed bonelessly at the alleyway entrance.  
"I can't. I can't kill you, Sirius." His throat was still blocked, choked up horribly. "I can't do it."

Sirius moved faintly.

"I can't fucking _do it_." Nothing had ever been harder to say in his life. Nothing had ever been harder to walk away from. "But I hope to God that someone does, you unutterable bastard. Nobody deserves it more than you."

He hexed Sirius into immobility - hands and voice shaking wildly - marked the spot, and Disapparated to the edge of Hogwarts. Crouch was still in Dumbledore's office, although the others were gone; he was more than willing to come back with Remus, once things had been explained to him.

But when they got back, the hex had faded, and Sirius was gone; a trace of blood on the cobbles was all the evidence they had.

*

Dawn, and the main street of Godric's Hollow was slowly coming to life; tantalising odours wafted from the bakery, mingled with the sharp smell of ammonia from the window-cleaner a few doors down. A sole paperboy was trudging up the street, tossing each newspaper in a lazy arc to land beside each shop door. In the newsagent, a bleary-eyed girl was stocking the magazine racks; an equally sluggish woman at the bakery was setting up tables out the front. Noises from inside other buildings suggested that people were waking up or setting up; _no threat,_ Sirius thought automatically, appraising the situation almost by habit. He shook his hair out of his eyes and laid one shaking hand on the wand at his hip to steady it.

Peter, I know you're here. Come on out so I can kill you.

The Locus Charm flickered in the corner of his eyes, a dull red that no longer distracted him – his vision was hazy anyway, and the red flashes meant only one thing – Peter was close.

He turned slowly on the spot, garnering odd looks from the Muggles in the few open shops – a young man in torn jeans and a bloodstained shirt with a wild look in his dark eyes, fighting utter exhaustion to stay ready for anything, presumably wasn't an ordinary sight on this peaceful street. _How can they act so normal? Don't they realise what's happened? Don't they know anything? Oh, Jesus, where the fuck are you Peter?_

And then he turned around again, and Peter was watching him from the other end of the street.

"Lily! James! Sirius, how could you?" Peter shrieked suddenly, and Sirius snapped his wand around to attack-  
- and the whole world went to hell.

*

When Mr and Mrs Dursley woke up on that dull, grey Tuesday, there was nothing about the cloudy sky outside to suggest that strange and mysterious things would soon be happening all over the country. Mr Dursley hummed as he picked out his most boring tie for work and Mrs Dursley gossiped away happily as she wrestled a screaming Dudley into his highchair.  
None of them noticed a large tawny owl flutter past the window.

*

"Laughing," said Cornelius Fudge, the Junior Minister of Magical Catastrophes, in hushed tones. "Laughing. Can you believe it? Of all the people in the world, Sirius Black? He's been taken to Azkaban already – didn't want him getting away in the confusion. Barty Crouch said so. It's obvious that he was guilty, naturally. Fancy that – _Sirius Black_ a Death Eater!"

"It's a terrible, terrible thing, Cornelius," his secretary said. "And it must be true, then – You-Know-Who must be gone forever. What else could send every Death Eater off their rockers? We've had no fewer than three give themselves up this morning, and it's barely half-past seven."  
"And not to mention the ones who've turned themselves in and claimed _Imperio_," Peter Wilkins said excitedly. "Why, we've done better this morning than in the past year!" The young Auror wiped sleep from his eyes.

"It must really be true," Watson – the secretary – repeated.   
And the three men glanced simultaneously at the next room, separated from Fudge's office only by thin wooden walls; they could hear the soft gurgles of a baby and Albus Dumbledore's quiet voice murmuring spells and chants. 

"Don't know why he's bothering with protection, if You-Know-Who _is_ gone," Fudge said, impatiently. "A bit pointless, really."  
"Apparently the boy's off to live with Muggles," Wilkins said. "Something about wanting him separate from the magical world for as long as possible. Shall I refill your glass, Cornelius?" He hefted the already half-empty bottle of redcurrant rum.

"Thank you – lovely. Yes, a little bit more – thank _you_. Can't say I agree with Dumbledore on most of these things; but he does get things done, so we let him go his own way most of the time."   
"He'll be off to Godric's Hollow this afternoon, then? Where's the boy staying? Not in the office here, surely?" Watson held his own glass out for a refill, and let out a big, happy sigh. "I can't believe it – I can't believe he's really gone."  
"Oh, Hagrid'll take him somewhere. It's all hush-hush, you know," Fudge said importantly. "Can't have a baby interfering with the celebrations, now, can we?"

*

It was on the corner of the street that Vernon Dursley noticed the first sign of something peculiar – a cat reading a map. For a second, Mr Dursley didn't realise what he had seen – then he jerked his head around to look again. There was a tabby cat standing on the corner of Privet Drive, but there wasn't a map in sight. What could he have been thinking of? It must have been a trick of the light.

*

Remus sat hunched in the dreary Belfast hideout and stared at the wall, wondering what Azkaban was like. He hoped it was utterly awful and that every second there was torture. He hoped that the rumour about prisoners going mad was true. He hoped Sirius stayed there for the rest of his life. He hoped he'd be allowed to attend Lily and James's funerals. And most of all, he hoped that the pain would fade in time, and that he'd be able to get on with … with … whatever they found for him to do. What jobs were there, anyway, for werewolves with no skills except fighting Dark wizards? The war was over, but the promised utopia hadn't arrived. And without his friends, it wasn't likely to ever turn up.

"Oy, Lupe! Come down the pub?" bellowed a cheerful voice in the next room. "Time to fuckin' celebrate, you know!"

"I – I don't think I'll come," Remus called, holding his voice as steady as possible. "You go on. Have fun." To his horror, the last word degenerated into a sob, and once the first one was out he couldn't stop the rest. All he could do was muffle the sound in the scratchy, smelly blankets and hope that the others had already left.

*

Mr Dursley always sat with his back to the window in his office on the ninth floor. If he hadn't, he might have found it harder to concentrate on drills that morning. He_ didn't see the owls swooping past in broad daylight, though people down in the streets did; they pointed and gazed open-mouthed as owl after owl sped overhead. Most of them had never seen an owl even at night-time. Mr Dursley, however, had a perfectly normal, owl-free morning._

*

Peter nuzzled the hand of the five-year-old boy, and curled his tail around the red-head's fingers. "Can I keep him, Mum?" he heard the kid ask. "Look, he's so well-behaved, he's adorable!"

"Oh, Percy, there's more to think about now than a rat! I'm busy writing to your grandparents at the moment!" the flustered mother snapped. "If he doesn't make a mess, I won't notice him, all right? You can feed him from the leftovers."

A wide grin split the small, freckled face almost in two. "Thanks, Mum!"   
And Peter found himself being carried joltingly up a crooked staircase.

Good. 

And when the bustle of Sirius's arrest and James and Lily's deaths dies down, I will go back to Him and start again. He'll be glad to see me. I have information, I'm important. I'm good. I'm a rat. I'll be able to help Him… I just have to stay here until it's safe to go out again. Yes. See, it all works out.

*

When Mr Dursley left the building at five o'clock, he was so worried that he walked straight into someone just outside the door.

"Sorry," he grunted, as the tiny old man stumbled and almost fell. It was a few seconds before Mr Dursley realised that the man was wearing a violet cloak. He didn't seem at all upset at being almost knocked to the ground. On the contrary, his face split into a wide smile and he said in a squeaky voice that made passers-by stare: "Don't be sorry, my dear sir, for nothing could upset me today! Rejoice, for You-Know-Who has gone at last! Even Muggles like yourself should be celebrating, this happy, happy day!"

And the old man hugged Mr Dursley around the middle and walked off.

Mr Dursley stood rooted to the spot. He had been hugged by a complete stranger. He also thought he had been called a Muggle, whatever that was. He was rattled. He hurried to his car and set off home, hoping he was imagining things, which he had never hoped before, because he didn't approve of imagination.

*

Azkaban was as horrible as Sirius had always thought, even seen through the foggy haze of Dementors, even with James's cold, white hand filling his head and Lily's last despairing shrieks ringing in his ears. He hung limp in the arms of his captors and watched the floor drag past underneath his feet, stone cobbles pregnant with fear and stained with old blood; he watched dully as the last vestiges of daylight vanished in the distance, replaced by dim werelights hovering in the corners. He barely noticed it when he was flung harshly across the hall, into a cell; nor did he hear the clang of the cell door closing, or the snap as the guard maliciously broke the key under his boot.   
He closed his eyes and thought, fiercely, _I am innocent._  
But it didn't stop Lily from screaming in his head.

*

The Dursleys got into bed. Mrs Dursley fell asleep quickly but Mr Dursley lay awake, turning it all over in his mind. his last, comforting thought before he fell asleep was that even if the Potters were _involved, there was no reason for them to come near him and Mrs Dursley. The Potters knew very well what he and Petunia thought about them and their kind … He couldn't see how he and Petunia could get mixed up in anything that might be going on. He yawned and turned over. It couldn't affect _them_…_

*

And James and Lily slept in the Ministry morgue, no longer affected by the troubles or the joys of this world. For them, it was an ending. But every ending is a beginning of something else, and this was no exception. For so it always is.

*

In fact, it was nearly midnight before the cat moved at all…

*

And the world continued to turn.

*

****

The End.

Please continue on to the next chapter for Author's Notes and acknowledgements. If that doesn't interest you, just review right here.   
Weaver. 


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